The Green Doll House
by futuremoffat
Summary: High School Au. Destiel. Dean works at the family GreenHouse. One day, an interesting stranger comes along, only to change his life forever. Sweet, brilliant, Castiel who makes dolls for kids with terminal illnesses. Dean helps Castiel adjust to life in a small town while Castiel helps dean adjust to life in general. And, hey. Everyone loves a little T.S. Eliot to lead the way.
1. Chapter 1

_We die to each other daily._

Dean unzipped the cover over the door, the canvas still wet from morning dew.

_What we know of other people_

Fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the screen door to reveal his home away from home.

_Is only our memory of the moments_

Dean set his keys and bag of audio books on the small table with the cash register.

_During which we knew them. And they have changed since then._

He kicked the tarp off of the garden pallet sitting in the corner.

_To pretend that they and we are the same_

In one swift motion, Dean collected both a bucket of small bottles and a water spritzer.

_Is a useful and convenient social convention_

Dean paused to adjust his headphones.

_Which must sometimes broken. We must also remember_

His head lolled back, eyes closed, allowing his soul to soak up his favorite line into the roots of his mind.

_That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger._

Dean exhaled deeply, making room for another breath of the earthy aroma of the greenhouse. A shiver was sent up his spine as the crackly blur of noise ensued after the end of the last poem. He began to search through the small bottles in his bucket, looking for the right nutrients and minerals for the cucumber plants in front of him.

The GreenHouse had been his parents' idea for the longest time before they passed away. When he was fifteen he found their blueprints in a dusty box in their even dustier attic. Everything was there, ready to go. All it took was someone to take the first step.

He spent night upon night in his bedroom at Uncle Bobby's, consuming every last detail of his dad's chaotic handwriting in an attempt to understand just what had to be done. Then, at the age of sixteen, he, Bobby, and Sammy began to construct the green house their parents had always wanted in the parking lot behind their dad's old hardware shop.

So that's how it was. Dean a year away from college, working in The GreenHouse. That was his responsibility and no one else's. Sammy helped out in the shop when he didn't have his nose in a book and Bobby became the manager.

Dean only felt it fit that some life come from their deaths, so he spent a majority of his free time tending to the greens of his amateur business. Nobody bothered him there. He liked it that way. It was quiet.

Of course, that was before 7:18 a.m. came around and someone actually needed help finding something in the comfortably crowded one-room greenhouse.

He felt the tap on his back first, almost jumping out of his skin. When he turned around to see who it was, he almost clubbed them with his watering can.

"Whoa!" the guy exclaimed, backing up defensively.

Dean tore off his headphones, leaving them to settle around his neck. "Sorry, dude."

Almost-decapitated-with-gardening-tools-guy's eyes were wide, still recovering from the near death experience he just encountered. "No… no it's my fault. I should have known better."

Dean laughed in an effort to calm the guy a little more. He looked incredibly tense. "Yeah, well no biggie," Dean said, smile still present on his face. "What can I do for yah?"

"I would like to purchase one of your tomato plants, please."

Okay. Direct. And surprisingly proper wording for someone who lived in a small town like theirs. Not to mention his bombshell voice that sounded like gravel ran across his vocal chords. "Yeah, sure."

Dean led the guy to the back of the greenhouse toward the tomatoes. He gestured at them, saying nonchalantly, "Well, there yah go."

The guy bent over for a second to examine the plants, searching for the right one. Dean noticed the intensity of his gaze as he did so, like nothing else was occupying his mind but what was in front of him. Then Dean found his eyes started to travel the length of his entire being. Probably around Dean's age. A button down with somewhat skinny jeans and a pair of white converse to top it off. He was lean. That much was for certain. Lean and incredibly flexible as he snapped back up to his full height without a moment's notice. Dean took a second to realize that he was done appraising the fruit.

"This will do," he said decisively, pulling a pot from the middle. It had to be the most developed of the tomato plants in stock.

"Great," Dean smiled. "Is that all?"

The guy looked around, biting his lower lip. Every thought shone through his expression, the consideration, the realization, and then the decision. Like a movie screen with a perfectly timed reaction projected onto the canvas. With this guy's looks, he could actually be an actor or something. Dean wondered if he ever thought about it.

"Yes, I believe so. I am ready to pay."

Once at the register, Dean asked, "So when did you move here?"

The guy gave him a bewildered expression, too serious for Dean's taste. "How did you know I moved here?"

Dean shrugged. "The way you talk. You're not from Kansas, at least not from this neck of the woods. Plus, I know all the locals." Dean took his money and put it in the cash register. "I've never seen you before."

The guy nodded. "That makes sense."

As Dean slid the plant into the bag he asked, "So where are you going to school at?"

The guy looked confused. "There is only one school in a fifty mile radius, if I am correct. But I'm going to Whitman, to answer your question."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, I should've guessed. Sorry."

The guy smiled back shyly. "Do not be sorry. You were not at fault for a misconception. No one is."

Dean blinked at him, stopping what he was doing. "Whoa, man," he exhaled. "That's some pretty deep stuff."

The guy's lips tugged into a small smile again, his eyes downcast. "Well I read some 'pretty deep stuff.'"

Dean's eyes squinted a bit when he smiled larger. He held out his hand. "I'm Dean Winchester. I go to the same school you'll be going to."

Dean saw the guy's eyes lit up slightly. And what eyes they were: blue with electric sparks in them when he made a realization like this one. "That's fantastic! I am Castiel Novak." He took Dean's hand gingerly and shook it.

A smirk reached Dean's lips. "Funny name. I kinda like it… Cas."

For the first time in their entire encounter Cas's smile was full blown, showing each white tooth. Dean's breath hitched as his heart fluttered. The sight was almost magical… but not. No. Dean was a manly man of science. There was no such thing as magic. But Cas's smile could give all of the arguments against it a run for their money as it only grew wider.

"Cas…" he tasted the nickname on his tongue. "I… I like it."

They stood there for a second, neither of them saying anything. Dean realized that sooner or later he would have to leave to do what he had to with his tomatoes. But he wanted to see that smile again.

"So what're you planning to do with these little guys?" Dean asked, trying to create a reason for Cas to say.

"I am going to eat them."

Well, Dean didn't know what he expected. "No, I mean what are you going to do with them? Cook 'em? Make somethin'? Eat 'em raw?"

Cas smiled that instant anti-depressant smile of his. "Pesto. I'm making pesto. I don't like tomatoes, but I like pesto."

Dean laughed. "Understandable. Pesto's pretty good." Dean leaned an arm on the counter, accidentally making one of his audio book tapes fall to the dirt-sprinkled floor.

Cas immediately bent down to pick it up. "T.S. Eliot," he read. "The Cocktail Party… interesting choice."

Dean's face immediately grew red. "It's nothing… just some light reading… well not reading, obviously, but listening… I don't really have time to read so I do this… what I mean is—"

"_We die to each other daily._

_What we know of other people_

_Is only our memory of the moments_

_During which we knew them. And they have changed since then._

_To pretend that they and we are the same_

_Is a useful and convenient social convention_

_Which must sometimes broken. We must also remember_

-And this is my favorite line-

_That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger._"

Dean stared at Cas, mouth agape. "You know it?"

Cas looked at Dean like this was a stupid question. "Do I know it? I live, breathe, and sleep T.S. Eliot. I feel he was one of the best poets of our race… he understood human beings. What it means to live and what it means to die."

Dean laughed softly, more in disbelief than anything else. "Yeah… he is pretty great."

"It's a shame about his fate, though," Cas said morosely.

Dean shook his head. "Emphysema."

Cas's eyes grew wild, unlike anything Dean had seen so far. Not really surprise, but excitement that Dean knew so much about an author who had been dead for a long time. "Has anyone told you that you have superb taste in literature?"

_Has anyone told you that you're friggin' adorable?_ Dean wanted to reply with, but retained himself. "Not recently."

Cas had another thinking moment, the visible strands of thoughts once again appearing on his face. And again, a realization. "I have some books of his at home. I'm sure I could find them among the boxes I have yet to unpack. And some William Faulkner. Do you like Faulkner?"

Dean looked at him as if he were crazy. "Is water wet?"

Cas laughed. The mere sound of it made Dean felt like his life was complete. If he ever head Cas laugh again, he could die a happy man. "This is wonderful!" Cas exclaimed, the beautiful voice that was his filling the room of plants. The GreenHouse felt more alive than ever before, and the place was literally _built for creating and sustaining life_. "Where's a good place to eat?"

Dean thought about it. "Uh… there's a good diner downtown… _Marty's_. Kind of old fashioned. Good burgers though."

Cas smiled again, sending Dean on a joyous overload that made him want to squeal like a little girl. … but a manly squeal, of course. "I couldn't think of a better place. Can I meet you there around… say sevenish?"

Dean's eyes bulged. Wait… was Cas… _asking him out_? "But we've only just met… and you want to eat with me?"

Cas's smile didn't even waver as he picked up his bag. "It's not every day that I meet a scholar such as yourself… I'm looking forward to it."

And with that, he was out the door.

Dean stood in the silence that he was so used to. And suddenly, it didn't feel as comfortable as he had thought it to be not even twenty minutes ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Hey guys! So I really love the support that you're giving me so far. I really really appreciate it. This chapter's a bit short, so I'll try to churn out another two as soon as I can. Summer's a' commin', so I'll have plenty of time to fill your Destiel AU needs. I hope you have a great day and an even more wonderful tomorrow. Enjoy! :)

* * *

Dean had to clean himself up. That was his main goal as he rushed home as quickly as he could after closing The GreenHouse around six o'clock that evening. He jumped into the shower, taking a bit longer to make sure he had scrubbed all the dirt from every nook and cranny. He even pulled out the cologne that Uncle Bobby gave him for his birthday that was saved for special occasions.

And a date with an almost complete stranger with exquisite taste in reading material was most definitely a special occasion.

With that thought, he decided on a pair of his nicest jeans, his Great Gatsby shirt that Sammy had gotten him as a gag gift, and the cleanest pair of shoes he owned: the white Vans he never used. They weren't practical for the gardening environment, so he had no need for them before tonight.

As he had been laying out all his options, Dean noticed that a lot of his clothing was gifts. Except a couple pair of jeans that Bobby made him buy because his other ones were falling apart, a lot of what inhabited his closet was Christmas and birthday presents. Dean didn't care what he looked like. And now he realized that someone was actually making him _care_ about this kind of stuff, even if it was only to impress them. Not that Cas was materialistic or anything, but the fact that Dean had something to care about other than his plants was rather surprising to him.

Dean stood in front of the mirror, checking his hair to make sure it was perfect. He brushed his teeth for the third time in the past half hour before walking briskly to the front door.

Where he was promptly stopped by Sammy.

"What are you _wearing_?" Sammy scoffed, staring in disbelief at Dean's shoes.

Dean automatically took the defensive side. "What are you talking about? I wear this all the time."

Sammy rolled his little fourteen-year-old eyes, like he knew everything. Which, honestly, he probably did. "You look like an idiot."

Dean replied with one of his best comebacks: "Yeah, well so do you."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Hey!" came a voice from down the hall to the kitchen.

Dean mentally chastised himself. Of course Bobby was home.

"What are you doing calling your brother that? You're _family_ for God's sake," Bobby said once he was out into the entry hall. "You have no business calling anyone that, for that matter. Apologize or you'll be in a world of hurt."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. Sorry, Sammy. Can I go now?"

Bobby noticed the urgency in his voice and became intrigued. "Where are you in such a hurry to be?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sammy coupled annoyingly.

Dean shuffled his feet, his hand slipping off the doorknob to slide into his pocket. "I, uh… I have a date."

Bobby's eyebrows shot up.

Dean shook his head bitterly. "No need to look so surprised."

Bobby smiled. "I never said anything of the sort. I'm just wondering why you don't have anything for your date, that's all. Most people have the decency to bring flowers."

"Bobby, this isn't the olden days. Nobody does that anymore."

Bobby put up his hands defensively, walking back to the kitchen. "I'm just saying, kid. Some flowers might make your ass seem a whole lot nicer."

It took Dean a moment to realize that what he needed wasn't flowers. He ran back to his room, grabbed what he wanted, and rushed out the door before Sammy could make any more comment on his spectacular fashion sense.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Okay. Color me amazed. I am so incredibly thankful for all of your reviews, favorites, and follows! So, as a reward (and this is totally not a way to conditioning you into giving me reviews before I post another chapter no not at all) I made this one more than twice as long as the last one! Woo! You guys are really awesome. I appreciate all of the feedback you give me and I can't wait to see where this story goes. And, as always, I hope you have a great day and even more wonderful tomorrow.

* * *

When living in a small town, it's not too hard to get from one place to another without any other means of transportation other than the shoes on your feet. Dean was pretty lucky for that, seeing as he didn't really have a car. He didn't mind being the only seventeen-year-old at his school without a car. It just meant more exercise for him, so, in the long run, he was actually luckier than them.

Six and a half blocks later, Dean was cutting across the street toward _Marty's_. The familiar tinkle of the bell overhead as he entered filled his ears, sending his already nervous mind even more on edge. He wanted to impress this guy. This weird, quirky guy who talks weird and buys tomatoes when he doesn't even like them.

And he was sitting along the right wall in a booth, a lemonade set in front of him. He hadn't changed for the date, which made Dean feel self-conscious all of a sudden about doing so.

Cas looked up for a moment and caught sight of Dean. His mouth immediately formed an excited smile. "Dean!"

It was that smile that finally calmed Dean's nerves. As he made his way to the table, Cas took notice of the other's outfit.

"You changed," Cas said, smile still present but a crease between his eyebrows had formed, like he was confused.

Dean slid into the booth seat opposite. "Yeah," he mumbled, rubbing at the base of his neck. "I spilled some dirt on myself today and thought I'd spare you the sight."

Cas tilted his head. "If it makes you feel any better, I thought you looked quite good dirty. More relaxed."

Dean's cheeks flushed in slight embarrassment. "Uh…"

"What's that you have there?"

Dean glanced down at the box he'd placed on the seat next to him, thanking whatever deity hovered above for their moment of mercy. He picked it up and gingerly set it onto the tabletop, sliding it toward Cas.

"Open it."

Cas looked quizzically at Dean before lifting to lid of the shoebox. He gasped sharply. "Is this…?"

Dean smiled widely at the sight of Cas's growing exuberance. "Yeah."

"_The first edition of Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451_?"

Dean nodded, hardly able to contain himself. "Yeah," he found himself repeating.

Cas flipped the masterpiece over in his hands with excruciating care. "Amazing…" He lifted the front cover as if he had just found an artifact in an ancient temple. "Is it…?" Cas peeked inside, then looked up slowly in a state of utter euphoria. "It's… it's _signed_."

Dean had never seen anyone freak out about something so much as this. And it felt incredible to know that his fascinations were just as fascinating to another human being. "Yeah," Dean laughed. "Do you like it?"

Suddenly, Cas's face dropped in confusion. "Wait. You aren't… no. In no way possible will I ever accept a gift such as this. This is… this is too much."

Dean shrugged. "You don't have to take it if you don't want to. I just thought you would like to see it."

"You are very much correct about that," Cas confirmed, breathing a little heavier than before. "You have my gratitude for sharing such a timeless piece with me."

"My pleasure."

The sat for a moment, smiling, Dean now completely relaxed and Cas still silently fanboying from the core of his soul.

"What do you want?"

Dean was shocked out of his stupor, his attention claimed by the waitress beside him. He was surprised to see Holly. She would never agree to a Friday evening shift.

"Oh, hey Holly," Dean said, trying to arrange some sort of normalcy between them after he realized she must have seen the last minute or so. She went to school with him, but she most likely hadn't seen Cas before today. "No parties tonight, I'm assuming then?"

Holly smiled a fake smile at Dean. How'd he know? Holly wasn't too keen about talking to the only gay orphan at school, and most certainly not in public. It was neither his sexual orientation nor his state of guardianship that offended her, though. Once, in freshman year, Dean had embarrassed her in front of their entire biology period by explaining to her the difference between pollination and the quickie that she probably just had during lunch period with one of the brainless jocks. They were seniors now. So much for the whole 'live and let die' spiel.

"Dean," she said curtly, ignoring his earlier jab. How Holly ever got into the customer friendly business, Dean will never know. "What would you like to order?"

"A Coke and bacon cheeseburger with fries, please." Dean enjoyed being pseudo-courteous if only to spite her.

"The chicken fried steak with a side of potatoes seems delightful. Oh! And another lemonade, if you will," Cas interjected, the politeness in his voice undeservingly genuine.

Holly scribbled the orders on the pad, chewing her gum obnoxiously. There were times during tests that Dean just wanted to get up and _make_ her spit the bubblegum devil food out. Passing be damned, someone needed to shut her up some time or another.

Once she was gone, Cas gave him another one of those confused looks of his.

Dean hurriedly tried to switch topics. "So what was your favorite part of the book?"

"Fahrenheit? But there are so many to choose from…" Cas's expression twisted into the one that Dean had seen earlier at The GreenHouse. The one that exposed his thoughts for the whole world to see, and he was now only focused on answering Dean's question. It was absolutely adorable. Cas suddenly took a huge breath, and set his hands on the table top. Looking Dean straight in the eye, he said with all seriousness, "All of it. Just, the plot in its entirety. The way it views the future of humanity is incredibly fascinating and frighteningly true. The struggle between conformity and positive action in our world pulls all the right strings in a young person's mind. It opened doors. It kicked them wide open for everyone to see what needed to happen for society to go on being a successful one. Of course, they didn't quite achieve the perfect one yet, but at least we're still reading." Cas wriggled in his seat before covering his face with his hands and half-moaning into them, "_It's just such a good book how did you know my favorite book that is statistically impossible for strangers to know favorite books_."

Dean laughed one of his ugliest laughs. The realest laughs are the ugliest. "I don't know, maybe I have some sort of super power."

Cas took a sip of his melted ice and lemonade cocktail, trying to regain his composure. "I think you might want to take that up with Stan Lee, not Bradbury."

Dean's fit of laughs subsided to small giggles. "I guess you're right."

A comfortable silence fell between the two.

"Oh, and before I forget," Cas said after a beat, rummaging around in the bag next to him, "I have _this_ to show you."

He placed a browning-paged book on the table. Dean immediately lifted it into his hands, getting a feel for it. _As I Lay Dying_ by William Faulkner.

"Mmmm," he said opening the pages tenderly to breathe deeply into the world of characters that lay inside. The smell of old books is like heroine if you appreciate it as much as Dean did. "Delicious."

Cas laughed softly. "That's one way of putting it."

Cas smiled with expectant eyes. Dean realized that he, at this moment, was one of the subjects that consumed Cas's mind. Being at the end of such an intense gaze made Dean's skin chill in the best of ways.

Dean set the book down. "You know, the best thing about Faulkner is his sentences."

Cas's eyes lit up like the always did when talking about literature. Just something that Dean had picked up on. "They're fantastic. You know, in one of his works, there's a sentence a page long."

Dean's jaw dropped. "No way!"

Cas nodded, crossing his arms in an odd sort of smugness that didn't actually contain an ego. "Yes way. The man goes crazy with the stuff. That's what makes it so wonderful."

His finger running along the edge of the cover, Dean sighed. "Just the way he looked at the world… it wasn't the situation, but the reaction to it. When you get down to it all, human beings are most defined by their emotions."

A small open-mouthed smile appeared on Cas's lips, causing the outer edges of his eyes to crinkle pleasantly. "You understand it."

Dean thought about it for a moment. "I live it. We all do."

Holly picked that exact moment to drop two plates of steaming hot delicious food on their tables, which were promptly followed by two tall glasses: one light, one dark.

"Thank you," Cas said, looking up at Holly from his chicken fried steak.

Holly sent Cas a condescending smile that set Dean on edge. "No problem." Then she disappeared into the kitchen, probably to check her text messages or send another obnoxious snap chat video that she was infamous for.

Dean picked up the bottle of ketchup that sat next to the salt and pepper shakers. In a loud _squirt_, Dean plastered a copious amount onto the bun and smooshed the concoction together into one big meaty sandwich. "I love ketchup," Dean said before biting a mouthful of the delicious bacon cheeseburger, the crunch of bacon audible through his open mouth as he chewed.

"Me too," Cas added, cutting into his dinner in the more pristine manner of knife and fork.

It took Dean a moment to finish swallowing before he responded. "But I thought you hated tomatoes."

"Yes, but," Cas counteracted, "I also love ketchup. Ketchup is not purely tomatoes. Thus being, I can still like ketchup without liking tomatoes."

Dean shook his head. "That doesn't make sense."

Cas shrugged. "Maybe some things just aren't supposed to make sense."

"I guess you got me on that one," Dean said, eyebrows raised.

Cas smiled at him deviously before reaching over to snatch one of Dean's fries from his plate. "I hope to win many more of these types of arguments in the future." Cas then proceeded to slip the fry into his mouth, his eyes daring Dean to stop him.

Dean only replied with a quiet, "Me too."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **I forgot to talk about the books I mentioned in the last chapter. I recommend all of them to anyone who is reading this. Faulkner and Bradbury are literally my most favorite authors on this entire planet. Fahrenheit 451 is about a society that burns books and firemen set fires instead of stop them (if you live in America, you'll probably read it your sophomore year of high school). As I Lay Dying is really kind of depressing... I can't even really sum up the plot well enough to serve it justice so you'll just have to read it on your own. :) I knew my knowledge of classic works would pay off some day. This one is pretty short, and a bit cheesy, but bear with me. Have a great day and an even better tomorrow, my wonderful readers. :D

* * *

"You know," Dean pointed, hands in his pockets as he and Cas walked down the sidewalk as slowly as possible, "we spent all that time talking about books and I never asked how your day went."

They had left the diner late, having spent nearly another half an hour talking about classic books and authors after finishing their food. The sun was now close to setting, the sky a gorgeous shade of pinkish red. The leaves of the maple trees that lined the street rustled in the slight summer breeze, warming Dean to his core with its sweet aroma.

Cas's head ducked a little. "Nonetheless, it was time well spent. It was a good day overall… I went over quota a little bit, which is fantastic for me."

Dean looked at him with knitted eyebrows. "Quota? For what?"

Cas glanced at Dean before repositioning it in its earlier downcast scrutiny of the sidewalk. He was silent for a moment, which was unlike him. Cas usually had an answer then and there that could blow out Dean out of the water. "Promise you won't laugh?"

Dean stared at him like he was crazy. "Of course I won't, what could ever make you think that?"

Cas bit his lip, like creating a dam between Dean's ears and the embarrassment that he held within. "I um… I make dolls."

Dean nodded slowly, taking the new information in. Which he saw no need for embarrassment, no matter how unorthodox it was for a teenage boy to make dolls. Then he looked at Cas, and forced him to hold his gaze. "You sound like you just admitted to murdering a grandma."

Can laughed, though it wasn't as happy. "In a place like this, I might as well have."

"Whoa, Cas," Dean said, trying to interrupt the tone of sadness in Cas's thoughts that showed so plainly on his face. "Those are two _completely_ different things. What's it for?"

If Cas wasn't embarrassed before, he was now. "Well, um… yeah. I send them out to people. Kids. In the hospital. You know, to make them feel better. Make them know that someone cares."

Dean stopped in his tracks. Cas kept walking, but paused once he realized Dean's absence.

"My god, man," Dean said, using his best Dr. Leonard McCoy voice. "You're a terrible human being that should never leave my presence ever again for fear that you will go on doing other terrible human things."

Cas looked confused. "I don't understand. Are you using sarcasm or do you really think it's that stupid?"

Dean rolled his eyes and "I'm not saying the idea is stupid, no the idea is the kind of idea that people only dream to think of and even fewer dream to achieve. No. The idea is not stupid at all. You're inability to believe that someone can think it's brilliant and fully support it? Now _that's_ stupid."

Cas's eyes were blank with shock. Dean could hardly believe how fast and how much he was getting excited about this.

Dean took his hand and held it tight as he faced Cas fully in front of him. "If you don't mind, I would like to know more. About what it is exactly you do and the exact way you do it. I want to know everything about you, Castiel."

Cas just stared into Dean's eyes, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth.

Dean's expression softened. "And I am _definitely_ not using sarcasm this time."

Cas looked down at where Dean was clasping his hand and lifted it to his chest. Dean allowed him to open his palm, his thumbs gliding over the creases and calluses. "I've never really discussed it much, besides to my brothers. Even then, they don't really listen."

With a wide smile plastered to Dean's face, he closed his fingers around Cas's hand again. "Well, you don't have to worry about that with me, Cas. I'm all ears."

Cas looked up at Dean with a meaningful happiness behind his blue irises. They were standing in the middle of a residence block. Anyone could just as easily glance out their window and see the two teens standing incredibly close. But they didn't care. "I want to know everything about you too, Dean Winchester."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** I realize that I haven't updated in the past few days and I felt really bad. So I just kind of let my mind spill on this here page for the past hour and a half and hoped that my audience would like it. I'm getting really excited about where this is going and I can't wait to share the experience with you guys as I go through it. Thanks for the encouraging words, Shirayuki0607! You're fueling the fire that is this fanfic. I hope you all had a fantastic day, and I wish you an even more wonderful tomorrow! :D

* * *

Cas liked Sinatra. He liked the smell of rain as it first sinks into a dusty gravel road. He liked swimming, but despised swimming pools. He liked gazing at the stars on the roof, even though his parents told him he'd break his neck if he fell off. He liked disobeying his parents. He liked quiet moments in the wind, a good book in his hands and Dean's head on his lap. And the only thing he really knew how to cook was pesto and ants on a log (not together of course). Dean had eaten many an ant on a log in the two weeks they had spent with each other.

The routine would be the same: Cas would walk to the greenhouse early in the morning and stay till Dean closed up shop. During the in between he brought his infamous healthy snack and a thick compilation of every _Sherlock Holmes_ story ever printed and read to Dean as he tended the vegetation. Dean could listen to that gravely voice for hours as he recited the genius that was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

"Moriarty did it."

"Dean, how many times must I tell you? If Moriarty did it every time, do you really think people would keep reading?"

The novice gardener pondered this. "Hey, people have some weird interests."

Cas nodded to Dean's surprise. It was like Cas was specifically programmed to create arguments between Dean and himself. He liked it too much to just give in and _nod. _"Yes, of course. People _do_ have weird interests, don't they? Like gardening… I don't think I'll ever understand…"

Dean opened his mouth to a wide 'O' in mock offense. "Hey, at least I don't make _dolls_."

Cas nudged Dean's crouching figure with his converse from where he sat on a table book in hand. Dean made a dramatic scene of falling on his back. "I can't believe you just did that."

Raising his eyebrows in indignation, Cas stared down at the dirty man underneath him. "What are you going to do about it?"

Dean smirked, crawling up quickly. "Well, since you asked—"

"It gives me no satisfaction in having to end this play date," Bobby said, the screen door shutting behind him, "but I will if I have to."

Dean sighed in defeat and looked at Cas. Cas just smiled back.

"We have no intention of making you do so, Mr. Singer," Cas called as he slid off the table.

"How many times do I have to tell you this, Castiel?" Bobby said for probably the umpteenth time since Cas had started visiting The GreenHouse. "It's Bobby. Just Bobby. Say it with me: Bah-bee."

Cas glanced at Dean deviously before responding, "Of course, Mr. Singer."

Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head, about to start again.

But Dean cut him off before he could reprimand Cas any further. "What did you want anyway, Bobby?"

"I came to collect the money for the day like I always do, ya idgit," Bobby said, his voice deep. "And give _Mr. Novak_ here—" Bobby said Cas's name in the same manner Cas had said Mr. Singer, "—the money he earned this past two weeks."

Cas had begun selling cards after about a week of being attached to Dean's side at every moment that he could. It was Dean's idea, and Cas loved it the first time he heard it. Customers would buy personalized messages to send with the dolls that Cas made to the kids in the hospital. So, Dean only assumed that Bobby meant the payment from that little operation.

Cas shot Dean a perplexed expression before walking toward Bobby. "What do you mean? You owe me nothing."

Bobby's smile shined brighter than Dean had seen in a long time. "Just stay here." Bobby ducked out the door momentarily, bending down to pick up something that he'd purposefully placed on the ground. When he returned to the room fully, in his hands was a large pickle jar with a slit in the lid. A pickle jar stuffed with crumpled dollar bills and several miscellaneous coins that slid against the glass bottom as he handed it to Cas.

Cas barely even accepted the jar, but he was too stunned to do anything but stare at the thing.

So Dean spoke for him. "What is this for, Bobby?"

Bobby stuck his hands in his pockets, like he always did when he was secretly blowing up inside with excitement. "A bunch of the locals heard about your guys' little business and wanted to donate. They kept on askin' me about it and I figured, why not make it easier on the lot of us?"

Dean and Cas sat in silence, Dean willing Bobby to go on. "So I set up a donations jar at the front desk near the register. You wouldn't believe the amount of support this thing's getting. A little over six hundred bucks in there. I'd be pretty proud of yourselves, if I were you."

Cas's eyes were glued to the jar. "… thanks, Bobby."

Bobby laughed. "And he gets it! Finally, the boy understands!" He told Dean to close up in a while since it was nearing six o'clock and left.

Dean came around behind Cas, placing a hand on his hips and resting his head on his shoulder. "What're you gonna do with it?" Dean whispered, nuzzling against Cas's ear.

Cas never really had a set out organization that he sent the dolls to. Sometimes it was the Mercy Hospital in Kansas City, but other times it was to random hospitals across the nation.

Dean felt Cas's jaw tense against his cheek. He knew the expression Cas had now: pensive, eyebrows drawn together and eyes stationary as if the one spot that he focused on had all the answers.

"I don't know yet."

* * *

OH MY GOD WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN WHAT IS CAS DOING IS HE- *realizes what I'm saying* Wait. I'm the author here. *looks at all of you staring at me like I'm insane* I have to be professional. Yes, professional. *straightens nonexistent tie* I totally know what I'm doing. ... kinda.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** This section was very rushed, which I am sorry for. I just knew I needed to get something out today in light of the Season 9 finale, in an attempt to bring some 'happy Dean' to all of you. Today was also the last day of my sophomore year in high school! Woo! I'll have so much more time to give this fic all of my attention! I love all of your reviews and the rate of your support is just astonishing me. Thank you. I appreciate it so much. This chapter is incredibly short. Sorry. Now on with the show!

* * *

School began four days later. Cas had decided to keep the money with Bobby and the rest of what people wanted to donate until he knew what to do with it. Dean and Cas had set up an arrangement where Dean would walk to Cas's house (because Cas lived closer) and they would walk to school together.

Of course, that whole plan was shot out of the water when Dean walked out the front door. His back pack dropped to the porch. He tried to get out any kind of sound whatsoever, but his throat felt swollen and his tongue a weight in his mouth. Dean stood there for a moment longer, staring at the spectacle in front of him before dashing back into the house, almost tripping over his feet in the process.

"_Bobby_!"

The man in question was already sitting at the end of the dining room table, crossword and pen in hand. He slipped off his reading glasses, a smug smile plastered to his face. The older man laced his fingers together, leaning on his elbows toward a breathless Dean.

"Bobby, there's a—"

"I know," Bobby answered simply.

Dean's eyebrows drew together in confusion. He heaved another deep breath. "You know?"

Bobby chuckled from deep in his throat. "I'm the one who put it there, boy!"

This confused Dean even further. "What… what's it for? Why's it here? Are you keeping it for someone or—"

"It's for you, dumbass," Sammy snapped, walking out of the kitchen with a half-eaten granola bar in his hand and a stuffed bookbag on his back. Nerd. On his way out, he mumbled, "I still don't know why I have to walk when Dean doesn't have to." He was gone before Bobby could reprimand the name calling.

Dean didn't even care about Sammy's passing comment. His eyes were wide, as was his smile. "Bobby… is this for real? Am I really getting my own _car_?"

Bobby looked at him in disgust. "Don't look so damned surprised. It ain't like I don't give yah anythin'." He grabbed a dirty plastic spoon from the messy table and chucked it jokingly at the excited teenager. Turning back to his crossword, he said softly. "Keys are in the kitchen."

"OhmygodBobby," Dean blurted, coming to hug his uncle. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

Bobby squirmed in the embrace, bringing a hand to Dean's back to tap out.

Dean took the hint. Then ran as fast as the narrow hallways would allow to the kitchen, grabbed the keys, and raced back to the front door. "Thanks again, Bobby!"

"Hey!" Bobby shouted after affectionately. "You better treat it like it's your own baby! I don't wanna see a scratch on that thing!"

Dean shouted back his compliance, but he wasn't sure Bobby heard. He ran all the way up to the front door of the black beast before stopping.

Dean exhaled.

The keys felt right in his hands. The perfect kind of weight that you'd never want to put down. He rubbed the car key with his thumb, feeling the teeth imprint in his skin like it belonged there. His other hand gently grazed over the shiny black hood as he rounded the entire car. The feel, the mere _touch_ of it calmed Dean's nerves. He crouched in front of the grill, thumb rubbing over the silver lettering on it. _Chevrolet_. A 1967 Impala. The same one that he had pointed at for months to Bobby before finally realizing it was futile and only mentioning it around Christmases and birthdays.

It looked like his persistence on this one car had paid off, Dean thought, smiling. Then he considered Bobby's words of advice. Treat it like a baby. Hmm. _Baby_.

* * *

Oops! I forgot to say that I hope you had a great day and an even more wonderful tomorrow. Well, yeah. Do that. Treat each day like Bobby just handed you the keys to a supermegafoxyawesomehot car. Yeah.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Since the last chapter was pretty short, here's a longer one. This was really fun to write and I had a lot of great opportunities come from it. I am not responsible for any terrible, _terrible_ jokes in here. But enjoy them nonetheless! I hope you have a great day and an even more fantabulous tomorrow.

* * *

Dean flipped open his phone and dialed Cas's number.

The recipient picked up immediately, as if he had been waiting for the call.

"Are you almost here? I think there's a creeper parked outside my house in this… _really _cool car. Wow. I wasn't aware that stalkers had that kind of taste in automobiles. … Dean, I really recommend that you hurry up. I think the man is getting out of his car and—oh."

Dean waved from where he stood beside the driver's side, door wide open. "Hey, Cas," he laughed into the cellular device. Cas immediately disappeared from where he'd been staring out his front window and the line cut off.

Cas's house didn't match his dress sense, but completely explained his dictation. A pristine white three story house with those cool round windows in the attic. A perfectly manicured lawn and flawlessly trimmed hedges. It even came complete with the white picket fence.

Most of Dean's classmates that lived in houses like Cas's wore spotless brand-named sneakers and sports t-shirts with the school's Name on the front. Cas was the exact opposite from those douche bags.

Which was why Dean liked him.

The door shut behind Cas as he ran to greet Dean like a kindergartener on his first day of school. He was smiling like it, anyway.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said over the top of the car. They both stood like that, the Impala sitting between them, smiling like idiots. "I'm very excited for today."

Dean laughed, slipping into the driver's seat and unlocking the door for Cas. "What for? It's just school. And we don't even have that many classes together."

"Ah, yes," Cas sighed as he plopped himself in the passenger seat. "You insist on majoring in biology and plant sciences, don't you?"

Dean put the Impala in drive. "Hey, I know it ain't no English major, but," he glanced at Cas, who was clutching his backpack against his chest, "I could still make a living out of it. And who knows? I still have a few months before college applications are _really_ due, so why do I have to know now?"

Cas nodded, realizing that this was a serious topic for Dean and arguing would be frowned upon. "I understand." He reached for Dean's right hand. "But maybe I could persuade you otherwise."

Dean laughed again, lacing his fingers with Cas's. "You can try, Cas. I'm just a bunch of clay ready to mold at this point."

It was barely four blocks to the school, and since their walking time had been cut short they were a pretty early. Dean parked in the senior section of the parking lot, a bit of a buzz running through him at the thought that he actually had something to park in the first place.

"Did you get any breakfast?" Dean asked Cas.

Cas nodded.

"You do know that ants on a log doesn't constitute a full breakfast, right?"

Cas glanced at Dean. "Then, no. I didn't."

Dean rolled his eyes as he climbed out into the dry still-summer air. No matter how many times people told him it was school time now, Dean refused to describe the first few months of education as anything other than still-summer. "I swear to god, you can be such a child sometimes. I have to stand over your shoulder while you eat now?"

Dean heard Cas's door shut as he reached into the back for his for his backpack.

"I seem to recall a certain someone whining because I took away his animal crackers."

Dean gave Cas a hurt look. "That wasn't fair."

"Yes, well," Cas countered, "life isn't fair."

"Ain't that the truth."

The two headed for the doors of the mediocre gymnasium. The school didn't use it for anything but school plays and P.E. classes, but that didn't mean that sports weren't important to Whitman High School. No. There was another auditorium a couple blocks down by the track and football field that the school spent a couple million on instead of new history books.

Dean was beyond happy that this would be his last year.

Once inside, they were greeted with the cafeteria. Dean smiled and bent over to whisper in Cas's ear, "That's right kids. No need to walk far for your calorie infested food! Your locker, your first period class, all only a hallway away from our signature heart attack hash browns!"

Cas broke out laughing. But it was worse than that. He tried to stifle the laugh by closing his mouth, causing the laugh to come out as more of a _pfffffff_ sound more than anything. Like a baby elephant.

Dean didn't think he was _that_ funny. But then again, Cas did have a pretty poor sense of humor.

Which was another reason that Dean liked him so much.

They dumped their bags at a circular table and headed for the line. They had time to kill, so they ate slowly and deliberately, snippets of conversation being thrown between leisurely chews and swallows. The omelets weren't actually all that bad.

There they sat for the next ten minutes, huddled over breakfast, before a looming figure appeared beside their table.

Michael Milligan.

"You're in my spot, Winchester."

Dean's eyes widened sarcastically. "Oh, I'm sorry. Just let me rearrange my entire life to fit your wants and needs. Sorry, totally my fault."

Michael's jaw clenched. "If you knew any better, you'd—"

"Yeah, well I don't," Dean snapped back. "So why don't you just choose one of the other fifteen empty tables—" Dean gestured around him with wide arms, "—and go sit there? Because this one's taken, Michael."

Michael cocked his jaw so it stuck out at an unnatural angle. Dean hated when he did that. It amplified his douchieness by ten thousand douche points. Michael considered Dean's proposition, but must've realized that doing so would be submissive behavior in the animal kingdom. And he wouldn't be head hyena if he did that.

So, instead, he just pushed Dean off his chair.

"Now hold on a moment," Cas said, standing from his chair to go help Dean, but was blocked by one of Michael's army of gladiator built teammates.

"Stay out of it, queer," one of the larger ones, Uriel, growled ferociously. "This ain't your fight."

Dean pulled himself off the ground, trying not to show any emotion at all. He'd learned that one as early as third grade when the same guy had pushed him the same way, except that tussle was over a swing set. "Now hold on, fellas. I'm sure we could find some rational way to work this—"

Michael went to push him again, obviously not taking to the rousing speech Dean had prepared off the top of his head. But Dean ducked out of the way and reached up over Michael's bulky letterman jacket and pulled the hood over the jock's head, pushing him forward into the table in the process.

Michael collected himself, now more furious than he was before Dean had made a dent in his pride. "You're gonna pay for that, yah fuckin' dyke."

Dean's expression screwed into one of confusion. "Dude. Not even my area of expertise. Seriously. Get your insults right."

Suddenly, two bulky bodies came from behind Dean and grabbed his arms. He tried to struggle, he really did, but Dean hadn't been weightlifting since the age of five like these guys had.

Michael grinned fiendishly, staggering toward the smaller man. Dean could take comfort in the fact that he'd at least knocked Michael around a little bit before he got absolutely pummeled… again.

Once Michael was close enough, he spit on Dean's face. Dean didn't even flinch, just glared into the Satan incarnates' eyes. "You know, I'd drink more water if I were you. You're spit seems a bit dry."

This was the final catalyst before Michael sent a blow to Dean's gut. This was impossible for Dean to ignore, so he doubled over. His action was cut short when the two guys holding him lifted him back up to take a second fist to the gut.

"_Stop it_!" Cas screeched desperately from somewhere to the left.

Dean glanced over to him. Uriel could barely contain the guy, Cas was fighting so hard. He flashed Cas a smile… as did Michael.

"Is that your fuckin' _boyfriend_, Winchester?" Michael snarled, bringing the fist he had wound up into Dean's rib.

The only thought that processed from that last breathtaking blow was how unnecessary Michael's vulgarity was. He was beating the shit out of Dean. Did he really need to use it to sound more serious?

Dean lifted himself a little bit to inch closer to Michael's face. Before either of his restraints could pull him back he spat, "Mine's cuter than yours."

Enraged by this comment, Michael got in two more punches to Dean's face before another voice sounded across the cafeteria.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

The group of guys scattered, leaving Dean to collapse on the floor. A couple got away before Principal Edlund could see them. Cas rushed to Dean's aid, immediately checking the damage to the pretty boy's face. "It's okay... it's okay..." Cas chanted quietly.

"He started it," Michael explained innocently.

Principal Edlund glanced at Dean with a more softened expression. "Is this true, Dean?"

Carver Edlund had always held a special place in his heart for the lower class of high school students. He had no tolerance for any kind of violence involving the football team. Which, unfortunately, occurred quite often.

Cas spoke up for Dean. "We were eating and then he—" Cas's eyes flickered to the glare Michael was shooting him, "—pushed Dean off his chair. Then he started assaulting him."

"You're such a liar!" Michael shouted.

"_Hey_!" Principal Edlund barked sternly. "That's enough of that. Milligan. My office. Now."

"This is bullshit!" Milligan's face twisted into something worse than anger: revenge.

Principal Edlund walked toward Michael and set a hand on his back, leading him to the hallway that led to his office. He turned around to look sadly at Dean's beaten and bloody form. "I suggest you take your friend to the nurse, young man. I'll deal with him when he can't bleed all over my carpet."

Dean caught the carnivorous glower that Michael shot at Cas. Cas, however, sat oblivious, too concerned with inspecting Dean's head wounds.

* * *

This was brutal to write. I'm still recovering. Sorry.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **I feel bad that I make you guys wait so long for such short chapters. I'm kinda treating each chapter as a scene, if you haven't noticed. I hope you don't mind it... is it getting boring to you guys? I really want your input, really. I have an idea for the climax, and I'm trying to write the things leading up to it, but I still want to make it _interesting_. Tell me what you think. The reviews are always welcome and I hope you all have had a great day and I wish you an even more incredible tomorrow.

* * *

Cas hadn't let go of Dean's arm since entering the nurse's office, and Dean didn't blame him. It was intimidating; the blistering on the paint walls didn't bode well with the overpowering stench of antiseptic. If Dean was honest, he'd say that kids who came into the nurse's office were probably more susceptible to leaving with another sickness than an actual cure.

"Pretty shitty first day, huh?" Dean laughed, his headache flaming up again with the action.

"I don't mind," Cas said adjusting the icepack on Dean's head. The injured teen hissed in slight pain. "Sorry."

Dean closed his hand around Cas's wrist, bringing the icepack down from his head. "You shouldn't have told Principle Edlund the truth."

Cas's eyes were like a child's as he stared, confused. "Why? Michael will be getting what he deserves."

Dean sighed heavily. Cas didn't know. How could he know? He was stuck in that world of imaginary people where problems were fictional and solutions were easy. "Michael isn't just your regular douchebag. He's a douchebag with _influence_, Cas. Which is infinitely worse."

A smile came onto Cas's lips and he chuckled.

This irritated Dean. He was trying to help Cas and the guy was laughing right in his face. "What's so funny?"

"You think I care what Michael does to me? Or any other of his minions?"

Dean's eyes flickered to the floor. "No, but—"

"The only thing I care about right now is that the son of bitch gets detention on his first day and, even more importantly, that you're okay." Cas had cussed. Cas had said the _'b' word_. Dean never thought he'd ever hear something like that come out of Cas's mouth, but he quickly lost that train of thought. Cas was staring at Dean with such a careful intensity that Dean could barely look at him. He was incredibly close, the kind of closeness that would make anyone else uncomfortable.

But Dean felt safer in this moment than he had in his entire life.

And there, in the middle of the germ infested nurse's office, Dean kissed Cas for the first time since he'd come into his life mere weeks ago. They'd joked about it before, but were always either interrupted or it wasn't the right moment. So they resorted to hand holding and nestling against one another listening to Frank Sinatra. Dean had wondered what it would be like, and fantasized about the perfect moment. But now it was real. It was stiff and awkward, just like all first kisses always are, but with Cas he knew it meant something.

A cough in the doorway brought both boys back to reality. They pulled apart, faces lighting up red with embarrassment.

"Well, good news is you don't have a concussion," Ellen said, taking her seat in front of a metal desk. Ellen Harvelle had been the school nurse for as long as Dean could remember. And Bobby's girlfriend for even longer, which only made the situation more awkward. "You'll need some painkillers for your headache and maybe a vaccine for that stupidity you must've caught."

Dean shifted on the thin bed all patients had to sit on while being examined. "Sorry."

"Hey, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," she said. "Bobby's gonna have a fit when you tell him about this."

Dean stayed quiet.

"You _are_ going to tell him about this, right?"

Dean felt Cas's body stiffen next to him, like he knew he wasn't supposed to be hearing this. "I think I'll head to class. Being late to my first class won't look good."

But when Cas stood, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. "I'll go with you."

Dean lifted himself off the bed gingerly, then glanced at Ellen for permission.

"Ah, hell," she sighed, handing him a couple painkiller pills. "It's not like I can do much else with you. Just try to stay out of fights for the next couple days, alright? I can't be dealing with this every damn day."

Dean smiled at her, then flinched at the sudden influx of pain that came with it.

* * *

It's sooooooooooooooo short. And I'm soooooooooooooooo sorry. Next chapter will be longer. I promise.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** I kept true to my promise. This chapter is, in fact, longer! About twice as long, actually! Now, if only I could keep up the pattern... I hope you had a wonderful day, and wish you an even more spectacular tomorrow!

* * *

"You're late," Mr. Crowley remarked, not looking up from his laptop.

Dean plunked his backpack next to his desk and eased into the seat, feeling the heat of all the eyes in the classroom on his back. Cas had calculus, so they had to part ways after checking into their lockers. "Nurse," he explained curtly.

The irritation in the stout British man's voice was apparent as he asked, "Do you have a note?"

Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything that he'd regret. He leaned back in his desk and said cooly, "Didn't think I needed one."

Crowley finally looked up to gage Dean's appearance. After doing so, he nodded and lifted himself from his bulky mahogany desk. All the other teachers had metal ones with creaky drawers, and since Crowley was only a Modern Literature and English teacher Dean could only assume that he'd made a deal with the devil for that piece of art. Or maybe it was the fact that he thing with the shop teacher, Josie Sand.

"I know today is the first day and all, but we've got a lot to cover this year. So I decided to challenge your eager minds." Crowley opened the cupboard where he kept all his books. "We'll start with some Faulkner."

The class resigned to a collective annoyance about the assignment to come, a few harrumphs and grunts coming from here and there. Dean just slid further down in his seat, a small smile playing out on his lips.

The rest of the school day went fairly smoothly. At least nobody tried to punch Dean's lights out in the first four periods before lunch.

The first lunch is always the scariest. New groups are formed almost every year, almost by ritual, and you're always taking the chance of sitting with the in-crowd or the out-crowd.

Dean? Dean was the neutral crowd. He mostly kept to himself, unless he was in the same lunch period as Jo, the nurse's daughter. Then it was more a mutual silence between them, apart from some gossip about teachers and how much they hated so and so or this or that. Since her mom was dating Dean's uncle, they were kind of obligated to be friends. And in a high school of three hundred kids, they couldn't be picky.

But Dean had Cas now. And Jo. So he decided that maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Dean!" Jo called across the cafeteria. The same cafeteria where Dean had been pummeled only mere hours ago. They seemed to clean up the blood pretty well.

The man in question broke into a smile and waved her over to where he and Cas were sitting. Far away from the morning excursion, that was for sure.

Dean sat back down to answer Cas's inquisitive gaze. "I hope you don't mind that Jo sits with us. She's basically my only other ally in this prison."

Cas nodded. "I don't mind at all," he said, then folded a fry into his mouth. The action reminded Dean of when they were at _Marty's_ and he couldn't help but smile.

"So I heard Michael kicked your ass," Jo said, plopping into the seat next to Dean.

Dean brought a hand to his temple, grazing over the bandage. "Well you're not wrong…"

Cas hurriedly swallowed his food in time to interject with, "You should have seen how he verbally assaulted Michael, though. His insults were rather impressive."

Jo's smile was shocked as she looked at Cas then Dean. "Who's your Shakespearian friend, Dean?"

"Oh!" Dean realized. "Jo, this is Cas. Cas, this is Jo."

"How do you do?" Cas said, reaching his hand across the table to shake Jo's hand.

Dean stifled a laugh as Jo, a girl who had no manners about her, returned the action daintily. "Fine. You?"

"Fairly well. Calculus class was brutal," Cas said dejectedly. "I could hardly keep up."

"Yeah, well Modern Literature isn't gonna be that great for you this year," Dean said, stirring the applesauce on his plate with his fork. "Crowley's already got it out for me, and he hates it when people argue with him on what we're reading. It's like he thinks there's only one interpretation. It's so dumb."

"What did you expect?" Jo snorted, taking a sip from her milk carton. "Crowley's practically king of this hellhole. He doesn't have explain himself."

The small talk continued, discussing classes little by little until a certain someone appeared next to the pow wow.

"What, is this your spot too?" Dean inquired bitterly.

Michael's jaw clenched, his hands visibly fisted in his pockets like it was a struggle for him not to bring them out beat the shit out of Dean. Again. He was beginning to draw some attention, standing next to the three most antisocial kids in school. "Principal Edlund told me I had to apologize to you."

There was a beat of silence. Dean glanced behind Michael and, sure enough, Principal Edlund was leaning against a wall watching the whole ordeal.

"Well?" Dean said. "I'm waiting."

Michael was quiet for another moment, and Dean was starting to believe that he might actually do what he was told for once in his life. Dean was wrong. "This is bullshit," Michael said, refusing to look behind him at the authority figure. "You deserved it."

Dean heard the screech of metal chair legs on linoleum. Cas was already standing and super close to Michael before Dean could stop him.

"And why is that?" Cas asked hostilely. Dean glanced back to make sure Principal Edlund was still there, but some kid was talking to him now. The older man glanced at Dean for a second, but his eyes flickered away just as quickly.

Michael looked at his aggressor with disgust. "You know why."

"No. I don't," Cas pushed on. "Enlighten me."

Michael cocked his jaw. The entire cafeteria was now silent. Principal Edlund had disappeared.

"What you're doing is _wrong_. It's not natural." Hatred was now gleaming in Michael's eyes.

"Cas, come on. He's not worth it," Dean said, standing to grab at Cas's arm. If it were Dean in this situation, he would be making all kinds of snarky responses. But Cas was being serious. Which meant Cas was in danger of getting hurt just as badly as Dean, if not worse. There was no way in hell Dean was going to let that happen.

"And how does that even affect you? It's our lives, not yours. If it bothers you so much, why don't you just stay the hell out of it?" A vein in Cas's neck was pulsing rapidly and he was breathing harder now. "We've done _nothing_ to you. Have you done anything to him Dean?"

Dean shook his head, astonished at the scene going on before him.

"I haven't either. But I will. If you touch him, or me, ever again, I will _end_ you."

The entire time that Cas had been reprimanding him, Michael had being trying to lose eye contact with him, turning away and moving backward. But Cas wouldn't let him get away, moving around to force him to see his face and hear his words. And now that he was done, Cas turned his back, grabbed his tray, walked the entire stretch of cafeteria without looking anyone in the eye, and dumped it into the trash on his way out.

The echo of plastic on plastic that Cas created echoed throughout the entire cafeteria. Everyone was silent. Even Michael.

* * *

A lot of stuff is going to start happening after this. A lot of Homecoming-y things that Michael will probably detest. So... stay tuned! And don't forget to review! :D It's always appreciated! I might even go as far as saying it's wanted! Hehe!


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** It's three in the morning and I'm pulling a writing allnighter. This is super short. Typos are inevitable. Happy 10 chapter anniversary. You know the rest.

* * *

Dean caught up with Cas after searching classroom after classroom. He was hiding in an empty chemistry classroom. The teacher must've been out to lunch.

"Hey!" Dean said, walking into the room determinedly.

Cas was sitting on the table top, hands gripping at his hair. He didn't look up when Dean entered.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, softer now that he was closer. Cas was crying. His shoulders were shaking slightly. "Hey, it's okay."

"No it's not!" Cas suddenly roared, taking Dean aback. "It's never okay, so don't even tell me that it is."

Dean knew he shouldn't be taking offense to this, but he couldn't help it. He'd never seen this side of Cas, and now he was yelling at him. "I'm on _your_ side, remember?"

Cas threw his head back and lifted his arms in futile protest, like he wanted to move that way but couldn't. "I know, I know… I understand this Dean, but it's just so _frustrating_. I thought that moving to a new town, being in a new place, maybe…"

"Maybe people would be different?"

Cas glanced at Dean with helpless eyes.

Dean walked closer to the grief-stricken boy so that he was standing between his legs. Cas dropped his head on Dean's shoulder, not moving from his sitting position on the table as he wrapped his arms around his Dean..

"I know, Cas," Dean soothed, rubbing gentle circles on Cas's back and holding his neck with the other hand. "God, do I know. I wish they would just go away forever. But I've been around these people my whole life, I've put up with them and I've still managed to be semi-happy. But saying those things to Michael… it'll only make him more pissed." Dean clung to Cas and Cas clung right back. "I know you meant well, and I appreciate you standing up for me. I've never done it for myself, I know. But what you did… it was stupid, Cas."

"No," Cas said, pushing away from Dean so he was at arm's length. "What I did was _right_. You can't let that guy tell you that your life is worth less because you're different. Because that's not only an insult to you, but that's an insult to _me_."

Dean could barely listen past the sudden irritation pulsing against his ears like timpani drums at an orchestra. He looked away, the close proximity too much for him. "And how is that supposed to be an insult to you?"

Cas looked at Dean, obvious hurt etched into his features. "How could it not? Dean, you're my everything."

Such simple words. These simple words that pulled at Dean's heart so hard he thought that the strings might snap. He met Cas's eyes, the sincerity in them finally finishing the job. Dean's heart was flooded with a wave of heat as the dam broke, growing heavier and heavier until the weight of it was too much and he was forced to lean forward into Cas for support.

"I'm sorry," Dean choked. "I didn't mean…"

Cas shushed him, rubbing his back like Dean had done to him only seconds ago.

Dean closed his eyes and nestled further into Cas's neck. Between the two of them, there was so much pain soaked into their bones, but between those bones there was blood and love and need. Dean took care of Cas and Cas took care of Dean. And it felt utterly blissful.

* * *

So yeah. Fair warning, it only gets worse from here. But good worse. Like, read more worse. Not writing worse. No. I'm tired. Like, _really_ tired. It's now 3:30 a.m. Just review it if you want, I don't really care about anything else at this point but the sun coming up and ending my painful journey into the night. Sweet dreams. Or good morning. Whichever you like. :)


	11. Chapter 11

The weekend came and things were better. They'd made it through the week, mostly keeping to themselves until the bell dismissed school and then they'd drive to The GreenHouse to do homework and Cas would work on his dolls. They eventually installed another sewing machine in the back of The GreenHouse because he was going to be there so often. It was a garage sale sewing machine that Bobby could barely salvage, but it served its purpose.

"Who's that one for?" Dean asked, leaning over Cas's shoulder.

Cas finished stuffing the arm he was holding and positioned it next to the body on the sewing machine. He smiled up at Dean. "Elody McCallister from Denton, Ohio," Cas answered without even glancing at the card.

Dean flipped the piece of paper open, revealing that name printed on it. Underneath was a scrawl of a child in crayon saying _Your going to get better soon! Love, Lydia P_. Dean chuckled. The kid spelled "you're" wrong. "Cute."

When Dean went to pick up one of the already finished dolls, Cas swatted his hand away. "Uh-uh, mister. I don't want you getting them all dirty."

Dean grabbed Cas's arm and lifted him to a standing position. "What would you suggest I get dirty instead?" he smiled deviously, pulling arts-and-crafts enthusiast flush against him.

Cas giggled profusely, his nose barely brushing against Dean's, but pulled back an inch every time Dean tried to close the space. "Not me, that's for certain! I could be allergic for all you know!"

Dean smiled against Cas's smile so close that he could feel Cas's hot breath against his lips. "Wanna find out?"

The gap was finally closed. And they stayed like that for a while, kissing softly and slowly with Cas's arms around Dean's neck and Dean's hands on Cas's waist.

Dean felt like he was on a cloud, his chest cleared of anything but the air he was sharing with Cas. That was, until Cas pushed away violently.

"Cas, what—" Dean started, but was cut short by the sudden fit of coughing his boyfriend was emitting. Dean laughed because he couldn't believe Cas was actually doing this. "Cas, I know we talked about allergies, but come on."

But Cas kept coughing.

"Cas?" Dean asked, smile faltering. Cas collapsed on the floor, leaning up against a cart of marigolds. Dean hurried to kneel beside him. "Cas, what's wrong?"

Cas reached out to fist Dean's shirt as he brought his knees up to his chest. After another few terrifying seconds, the coughing subsided.

Dean stared at Cas, eyes wide, taking in every detail. "Cas what was that."

Cas smiled weakly, beginning to get his breath back. "I always seem to acquire a cold at the start of the school year. That was literally just allergies. I apologize if I frightened you."

Dean sat down, finally calmed by Cas's explanation. "Well, yeah I was scared. I'm just glad you're alright." Dean let his knee fall against Cas's as he thought. "Maybe you shouldn't come here anymore if it's gonna be this bad. I mean, we could always go to your house and—"

"No!" Cas exclaimed abruptly. "I mean, no, we don't need to do that. I'm fine here. It doesn't matter if I;m around plants or not anyway."

"Okay," Dean said softly, taking Cas's hand in his. "I won't bring it up again." He met Cas's uneasy glance with a reassuring smile.

They sat like that for a little while, Dean ghosting his thumb over Cas's palm. He was still a little unsettled about Cas's coughing, but if it was only a cold he could relax. Dean realized just how protective he was becoming of Cas and it filled his heart with warmth.

"Hey, Dean?" Cas said, looking over at the other boy.

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean replied.

"Do you want to go to homecoming with me?"

Dean's breath hitched. Homecoming was maybe three weeks away and Dean hadn't even thought about it. He never had to since he'd never actually gone.

He looked to Cas, and they shared the same thought. It would be a risk, going together. But at that moment, with Cas looking so tired and eyes so blue, Dean couldn't say anything else but, "Of course."

And after the acceptance to Cas's proposal, they did they only thing that could possibly happen after such an event. They kissed for the remaining time before it was time to close up shop.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: **These are becoming so short and I'm really sorry. I just like to condense everything that needs to be said into the smallest word count possible. I'm not too good at fluff. You can blame my journalism class for that one. But _anyway_! This is written more focusing on Cas, mostly because it calls for it. It feels nice to be working with new/different characters. It was fun. I will seriously work on my fluff-skills in the next few chapters because we're gonna need it. I hope you had a great day and I wish you all an even more amazing tomorrow! :D

* * *

"What about this one? It seems sucificent enough," Cas negotiated, holding up what had to be the sixtieth vest he'd suggested in the past hour.

"Well, we're not looking for _sufficient_, honey," Charlie chided, taking the garment from Cas's grip. "We're looking for a vest that screams something along the lines of… _fuck me I'm a sex god_."

Cas wrinkled his nose distastefully as she put it back on the rack. "Does it have to scream it? Can't it just, I don't know, drop a couple subtle hints and hope for the best?"

Charlie rolled her eyes and grabbed her bestie by the wrist, dragging him behind her to the next rack. "Cas, I've known you since pre-k. You've been whispering your whole life, you gotta just let it out!"

"You mean I had sex appeal at the age of four? Alright. That's comforting."

Charlie turned around and winked. "Puh-lease. You were the talk of the pedophile circle."

Cas stared at her worriedly. "I don't think that means what you think it means."

Charlie Bradbury was Cas's best friend all throughout his school years. That was, until the day that Cas's dad got a job in Whitman and the whole Novak family moved with him. He'd called Charlie once for the past month and a half and she'd been just kind enough to volunteer to help him find the perfect thing to wear. Of course, this was after Cas had gushed for over an hour about how _Dean Winchester actually said yes_.

"So what color is this Dean fellow going with?" Charlie inquired without looking up from her quest for vests.

Cas rubbed the part of his wrist where Charlie had held on too tight. He couldn't help being a weakling. "I don't know, black pants, white shirt, green vest, and a green tie." Cas hoped he described it right. He didn't know the lingo for this sort of stuff. He never really needed anything but his Converse.

"Bow or regular?"

"Regular."

Charlie smiled up at Cas charmingly. Their height difference was quite substantial, so she always was looking up to him. "That means you gotta go with a bow tie, lover boy."

The two searched through the vests, but Cas wasn't really paying attention. He was thinking about Dean. How he'd laugh and smile and be happy at homecoming. How he and Cas would dance all night and his plan to drive to the lake and look at the stars until it was morning and there were none left to look at. It would be perfect. It had to be.

"Whatchya thinkin' bout over there," Charlie asked all-too-knowingly.

Cas felt his face go red. He must've been smiling. "Oh, um… nothing."

Charlie let out a fierce snort too loud for her stature. "Nothing my ass… or maybe it's nothing _Dean's_ ass or—WAIT A SECOND I THINK I JUST FOUND THE PERFECT VEST FOR YOU."

Cas stood on his tiptoes to look over the rack and get a better appraisal, but that wasn't necessary. Charlie was already shoving it in his face.

It was blue. Probably the bluest blue Cas had ever seen, the color of a summer sky. It was silky and shone like water as Cas ran his hand across it. "It's perfect," he muttered.

Charlie put her hands on her hips. "I'm a fashion queen, I know. Tell me I'm awesome."

"You're awesome," Cas obliged. "But now we need to acquire the tie to match this wonderful specimen."

"One," Charlie said, "don't call the clothing 'specimen' and two, when are you going to see the doctor for that nasty ass cough of yours?"

Cas looked up at Charlie, then walked further down the aisle toward the ties. He felt the cough coming, but suppressed it as best he could as he said, "Friday."

Charlie looked confused and then shocked. "_Friday_? You mean, like, _homecoming_?"

Cas nodded and cleared his throat of the nuisance. "I'm leaving during school. I'll be back before the dance starts, so don't fret." He chuckled. "Your attempts of fortifying my fashion sense have not been in vain.

Charlie sighed, relieved. "Good. 'Cause otherwise, I'd be doin' some real voodoo on you and your date."

Cas laughed and continued his search for the perfect tie to match. Because that's what homecoming night had to be. Perfect.

* * *

I hope this sounded different from Dean. I made Cas more of a perfectionist. Character voice can be really hard for me sometimes, so just stick with me. I want to thank you for staying with this for this long. As my first story that actually accumulated follows and reviews, it means a lot. You're making this story so much more than the idea I had in my head. Thanks again. :)


	13. Chapter 13

**AN:** Well, this is really super long. I thought you all deserved as much, having given me the most amazing reviews I will ever receive in my entire life. I only ask that you please stick through this with me. I feel like I have a responsibility to these characters now and I hope you do too. It's an amazing feeling. I introduced a new character this time... I think you'll enjoy him.

Oh! And when the story mentions the song during the dance, I strongly encourage you to play it on repeat while reading. Have a great day and an even more amazing tomorrow, lovelies.

* * *

It was cloudy.

Dean despised clouds, but he loved the rain. It was weird.

Just like Cas with the ketchup and tomatoes, it didn't make sense.

This was the dominant thought on Dean's mind as he pulled up in front of Cas's pristine home once again to pick him up for school. Dean knew his significant other would be leaving early for a doctor's appointment around noon. He also knew that he wouldn't see him until he was picking him up for the dance. Such a wide gap of time to get nervous, but Dean had already bought the whole get up and arranged a bouquet of flowers from The GreenHouse to give to him. There was no backing out now.

Not that he'd want to after seeing Cas, smiling, bounding down his front steps carrying a small brown package in his slender-fingered hands.

"Hey," Dean said, smiling at the beautiful boy beside him.

"Hello, Dean," Cas replied customarily, wearing a matching grin. He passed the small parcel to Dean. "This is for you."

Dean looked surprised. "Cas… I didn't get you anything. You didn't have to—"

"Just open it, you dunce," Cas laughed.

Dean untied the yarn Cas used to tie the whole thing together with. Once he did so, the wrapping fell away almost like it was designed that way. Inside was a small lidless box of the four most scrumptious looking strawberries Dean had ever seen. "Hot damn, Cas," he commented, taking one of the plump morsels from its packaging. "They're perfect."

"I know," Cas said, snatching one from the box and biting off the tip. "I'm the one who grew them."

Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You… _grew_ these?" he asked. "I thought you detested gardening."

"Generally, I do," Cas said. "But I like the guy who's behind the watering can." He popped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth, biting it off at the green leaves. "Mmmm… _delicious_."

Dean smiled widely at Cas. "I thought these were a gift for me."

Cas chucked the stem out the open window and licked his fingers even though there was nothing really on them. "You didn't think I'd give you something without taking some of it for myself, did you?"

"Greedy bastard," Dean scoffed, putting the car in drive.

Cas leant over to kiss Dean on the cheek. "You know it."

Once they had parked and were walking toward the school, Dean had consumed one strawberry. He handed Cas another one and took the last for himself. Two and two. They complemented each other, just like Dean did to Cas and Cas did to Dean.

"You remind me of strawberries."

Cas looked over at Dean. "How so?"

"I love strawberries," Dean smirked, walking a little faster to escape Cas's reaction.

It was too late. Cas was already shoving his arm. "You're such a sentimentalist."

Dean leaned his head back onto Cas's shoulder, which was awkward since they were walking. "Would you have it any other way?"

"Well…" Cas started, but trailed off like he was forming a list of things he could change about Dean, which they both knew was nonexistent.

Dean pointed the stem of his strawberry at Cas. "Don't."

The two made it through the beginning half of the day well enough. From what Dean had seen, Cas's allergies had calmed down. He only caught him coughing once as he passed the calculus room in search for post it notes for Crowley. Dean was assigned all the dirty work for the Modern Lit instructor, which actually got him out of a lot of class. Crowley wasn't as sharp as he thought he was, especially if they were reading that godawful prose by Charles Dickens. Dean liked Dickens. He didn't like _Martin Chuzzlewitt_. There was a difference.

"Hello, beautiful beasties," Jo said, slipping into her seat next to the boys. "How've your days been?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm dreading that agriculture quiz sixth period," Dean said to his green beans.

Jo stared at him like he was an idiot. "Are you kidding me? It's like your brain was engineered for that crap. Me? I don't know first thing about the calculus test." Jo did the whole triangle thing of the father, son, and the holy spirit and folded her hands in a praying stance. "God help me."

Cas almost choked on his casserole from laughing. "I'm fairly certain that you subconsciously offended a large number of Catholics just now. You performed it backwards."

Dean chuckled softly.

"Castiel, my man. I had no idea how religious you were," Jo said, shocked.

Cas rolled his eyes. "My family is. I, however, revoked my practices for the Catholic belief many years ago."

Jo's eyebrows furrowed. She was genuinely interested now. "How come?"

Cas became stiff. Dean knew what it meant.

"It doesn't matter, does it Cas?" Dean laughed then turned toward Jo. "You know Cas. Always the rebel."

Cas glanced at Dean, gratitude shining on his expression if only for a brief second. "I have about five minutes before my doctor's appointment."

Dean finished chewing the bite of casserole he had just shoved into his mouth. Uncomfortable situations always made Dean eat at extraordinarily fast rates, as Sammy had pointed out more than once. "Your parents are still driving you, right?" he asked.

Cas nodded. "You are correct in your assumption. And you are still collecting me for the dance tonight?"

Dean smiled brightly, placing his hand on Cas's knee. "Of course, sunshine. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"_Ick_," Jo balked, pointing a finger at her open mouth in a puking gesture. "You two are so cute it's _disgusting_. I don't even know why you're going to this dance in the first place."

"Jo," Dean started, still smiling, "you're going too, remember? I was there when you bought your dress."

Jo shrugged. "Maybe I'll go, maybe I won't. I dunno. I feel unpredictable today." She smirked at the boys in front of her. She was obviously excited about tonight. Jo always rambled when she was excited. "You might as well call me Miss Unpredictable. You'll never know what I'll do next."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, sure. Whatever, Jo."

Jo stabbed Dean with her fork lightly. "That's _Miss Unpredictable_ to you, son."

"And with that," Cas said, standing up with his tray, "I'll take my leave."

"Have fun at the doctor's," Jo said. "If they have any suckers, bring me back a bucket of 'em."

Cas laughed. "I'll try my best, but I might be busy being poked and prodded by 'fancy shmancy' equipment."

Cas's parents were taking him out of town, all the way to Lawrence. It was about an hour drive and had better facilities than the local clinic, but Dean still didn't understand why they were taking him so far out for just a cough. His parents must've been pretty cautious. At least, that's how Dean imagined them to be. Cas never actually let Dean meet any of his family.

Dean grabbed at the hem of Cas's shirt before he could leave the land of the antisocial. "Want me to come with you to the office?"

It was policy that you check out with the office before leaving the school campus. Not like people didn't leave without permission anyway.

A sudden look of panic flashed across Cas's face, but disappeared just as quickly. Jo hadn't noticed, but Dean had. And he didn't say anything about it. "No, I think I'll be fine on my own."

Dean stood up, but left his tray. "I'll walk with you to the trash can."

They walked together to the trash can, taking the outside wall as a path. Dean had no doubt that Cas knew why he was coming with him to do such an easy task as dump his tray.

Once Cas had done what he had walked all the way for, Dean and he jogged the last few feet till they turned into a hallway, giggling slightly. The office was a staircase away. They walked into the space cleared out underneath the stairs, kind of a janitor supply nook.

"I can't wait for tonight," Dean said, taking one of Cas's hands into his own and pulling him closer.

Cas smiled softly. "Me neither," he said and then leaned forward into the kiss Dean was prompting.

It ended too quickly. Cas hugged Dean tightly, surprising the recipient. But Dean returned the gesture nonetheless.

"I have to go," Cas said softly into Dean's neck.

"I know."

"You have to let go of me."

"I know."

"I'll be back before the dance."

"I know."

"Dean, really. It's not like I'm going off into battle."

"I know."

"… I love you."

Dean smiled into Cas's shoulder and gripped him tighter. "I love you too," Dean said. "More than strawberries."

Dean's world had come to a crumble the second he realized the tragic event.

He felt like collapsing right there.

He felt like screaming into the sky over the injustice the universe had played on him.

_Dean Winchester could not, for the life of him, find his damned tie_.

"Well where did you last see it?" Bobby asked as Dean tossed the cushions off the couch and onto the already messy floor.

"I don't know, Bobby!" Dean cried painfully. "If I knew, I would've looked there first!"

"Kevin just texted me," Jo said from where she stood in the doorway. She was wearing a short purple dress with black frills, matching high heels and a flower attached to her wrist. She decided against helping for fear of dirtying her pretty dress. "The dance started half an hour ago."

"_You're not helping._"

Bobby sighed heavily, checking underneath the papers on the dining table yet again. "Well where could it be, Dean?"

"What are you looking for?"

Dean didn't even glance at Sammy when he entered from the hall to the front door. He must've just come home. "My tie."

Sammy was silent for a moment. "The green one?"

Dean froze. Then he flexed his fingers. And, lastly, Dean turned his head slowly toward the little fourteen-year-old who had never seen the homecoming outfit in his entire life. "Where. Is. It."

Sammy stared at Dean with wide eyes. "Upstairs. In my room."

Dean stood erect, the sudden anger rushing though his veins like magma heating before the volcano blew. "Why."

Sammy, realizing the severity of the situation, dashed upstairs as fast as he could with Dean trailing behind him like he was possessed by some kind of demon.

"Here!" Sammy shouted, grabbing the tie from the first drawer of his dresser. "Take it!"

Dean snatched it from Sammy's little hands, the relief flooding through his body overpowered by the advanced level of aggravation. "Why did you have this in the first place?" Dean asked sternly.

Sammy's shoes suddenly became very interesting to him. "I, uh… I wanted to make it special."

Dean stood, confused.

"Check the tip," Sammy said, gesturing weakly to the accessory that Dean was clutching.

Dean's grip loosened as he slid the fabric across his palm till he was staring right at the embroidered message at the end.

_To Jerk, From Bitch. I'll miss you when you're in college._

Dean knew that Bobby had bought all the clothes for the dance, but he didn't know that Sammy chipped in for the tie.

"This is…" Dean muttered, still a little in awe. "This is the lamest thing you've ever given me."

Sammy looked at Dean, shock evident on his face.

Dean grabbed his little brother around the neck and pulled him in next to him for a hug and gave him a noogie. "I love it, man."

Sammy shoved Dean off him, patting down his hair. "I made it so it won't show since it'll be hidden behind the vest."

Dean smiled brightly at Sammy before punching his arm and running down the stairs, already looping the tie around his neck.

"Help me, quick," Dean pleaded, standing directly in front of Jo.

Jo sighed and rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I know how to tie a tie and you don't."

Dean tilted his head up so she'd have better access. "Screw that, just hurry."

Jo gave him a look.

"… please?"

They were in the car maybe three minutes later, Jo riding in back since Cas was going to sit shotgun. The sun had already set, but the sky was still a deep shade of red.

Bobby waved from the porch. "Be back by one! Or I'll find your ass and drag it back myself!"

Jo laughed obnoxiously. Dean just gave him a thumbs up before peeling out of the driveway and onward to Cas's house.

"How do you feel right now?" Jo asked, wrapping her arms around the passenger seat head rest and giving him a sincere inquisitive gaze.

Dean smiled. Usually he'd shrug and say something stupid like, 'ya know' or 'same ol, same ol,' but, for the first time in a really long time, he could look Jo straight in the eye and believe it when he said, "Fan-fucking-tastic." His heart swelled with the words, threatening to burst right out of his chest.

Jo just laughed and slapped the leather seat before settling back into her spot. "Good! I'm so excited."

"Oh, that's right," Dean said. "You're going with that Kevin kid."

Dean could practically hear the movement as Jo rolled her eyes. "He's not a _kid_, Dean. He's a junior, just like me."

Dean laughed. "Whatever you say, Miss Unpredictable."

Jo punched his arm. "You remembered!"

Dean flexed his fingers on the steering wheel and thought for a second. "… do you think you'll go to prom with the guy?"

Jo shrugged her arms. "Who knows? That's a long ways away, Dean. He's been pretty nice through school… but he's kinda weird. He's smart, but weird. … and he was the only one who would ask me."

Dean nodded. "I get what you're saying," he consoled. "But you'll like the smart guys pretty soon. Brains are always better than bronze, take it from me."

Jo smirked. "Is that why you like Cas?"

Dean smiled, exhaling slowly and softly. The thought of Cas made him aware of stuff like that, his breathing, his heart rate. "I guess so," he answered. "That, and other stuff."

They were turning the corner to Cas's block.

"What kind of other stuff? Like how do you know?"

Dean parked the car in Cas's driveway and honked. "I dunno… just his… everything."

The front door to Cas's house slammed. Cas was rushing down the steps in a very different manner from when he had that morning. His head was dipped down to stare at the grass he was stomping on clumsily.

Dean stared wordlessly as Cas slipped into the passenger side and slammed the door. He wouldn't look Dean in the eye. "Drive."

The front door opened again and suddenly a guy with longish brown hair came out on the porch. He looked angry. And determined.

"_I said drive_."

Dean pulled out of Cas's driveway with a screech. With the windows down, Dean could hear a faint shout of 'Castiel!' come from the short man, but he didn't stick around to hear what came afterward.

They sped down three blocks before Dean turned the corner and felt they were safe enough to slow down a bit. "Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asked, placing a hand on Cas's shoulder.

Cas jerked away from Dean's touch, squeezing himself as close to the car door as possible. "I'm fine." Dean had caught sight of Cas's eyes. They were red. And his tie was slightly askew, as was his hair.

Dean noticed that Jo had scooted to the opposite side of the backseat, but it barely registered. He didn't try touching Cas again. Instead, he put his eyes on the road and drove over speed limit all the way to the auditorium, the one where they actually held games.

Jo got out as quickly as possible, adjusting her dress once she was out in the open. Cas stayed in the car as Dean opened his own door.

He nodded at Jo, one foot out of the car one foot in. "You okay to go by yourself?"

Jo flashed a sad, concerned smile. "I can manage." She gave one last discreet glance at Cas before kissing Dean on the cheek. "Make sure he's okay, Dean," she whispered next to Dean's ear so softly that he could barely hear it in that close of proximity. "I care about him, too."

Dean nodded again and watched her disappear into the auditorium.

Then he slowly sat back into his seat and closed his door.

Cas still wouldn't look at him.

They sat in silence for a long while before Dean looked behind him into the back seat. He reached over awkwardly and lifted the bouquet of white roses gingerly from their resting place.

"I got you these," Dean said, waiting for Cas to look at him. He realized his mistake. He'd rushed too fast into a resolution, expecting flowers to make everything better, but it became apparent that the only thing they did was add another variable into the mix.

Cas grabbed the bouquet, eyes still downcast. Dean could almost hear the stems wrapped inside bending. "Thanks."

They might as well have been dandelions.

"Look at me, Cas," Dean said softly.

The other refused.

"Look at me," he said more sternly this time, but still keeping the good-intentions tone he wanted to retain.

Cas turned fully and completely toward Dean, but it wasn't willing. Dean could tell by the dead look Cas held in his bloodshot eyes, like he'd just seen hell. And hell looked.

"Cas," Dean murmured, eyes flitting over his boyfriend's tired expression. It seemed worse in the sickly yellow light of the street lamp they were parked under, like the ruts underneath his eyes were deep cavernous abysses instead of sleep deprivation. "… what happened?"

Cas turned away again wiped his eyes with his sleeve, completely lacking in any care for the damage. He breathed in deeply, but it sounded labored. He hadn't just been crying. He'd been sobbing. "My family consists of a bunch of dicks," he choked out. "Can we go now?"

Dean stared at him for another moment before drifting hazily into a, "Yeah, sure we can…" There was no questioning Dean's want to know, but Cas didn't seem to want to fill that wish. So Dean wouldn't push. That was Dean's policy.

Cas opened the car door and closed it equally as violently behind him. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets as he walked in front of the Impala's headlights. Dean had never seen Cas like this. Ever. And it scared the shit out of him.

Cas wasn't going to wait up for him. And maybe that was best, so Cas could clear his head and take a breath. If Dean knew anything, it was that Castiel Novak was intoxicating. And that brings a certain level of intensity with it that you sometimes can't control.

In an attempt to give him more time, Dean stayed in the car, staring ahead blankly. He glanced down to where Cas had been sitting. Cas had left the white roses slightly disheveled in his wake. Dean bent to pick up the bouquet and rearrange the flowers so it was perfect.

He read in a Reader's Digest once that the white rose symbolized true love and the pureness of a new love. And that's what Cas was to him: love in all its purity and innocence.

Dean swept the loose petals off Cas's seat and into his dress pants' pocket.

People were already grinding when Dean entered the auditorium, which wasn't actually that much of a surprise. They were lined up like a centipede, moving to the beat of the rap song that was blasting from huge stereos placed along the walls and on tables.

Jo approached him cautiously, but Dean was too focused on finding Cas to even car.

"Wowee," she muttered, trying to lighten the mood. "I thought this was homecoming, not _hoe_coming. Leave some room for Jesus, am I right?"

Dean made the attempt to smile, if only to humor her. "Yeah, it's pretty disgusting. All those hormones flying around."

"Hey, Dean!"

Dean turned around, half expecting Cas. Instead, he found the short form of Kevin Tran fighting his way through a crowd. There was barely any in-school dating, so the number of people in the auditorium was almost double of the student body.

"How ya doin', Kevin?" Dean asked politely.

The small boy seemed ecstatic that Dean knew his name. "Pretty great!" he responded. Then he must've remembered the two drinks in his hands. "Here you are, Joanna." Kevin watched her take the red plastic cup. He could barely _stop_ looking at her.

Dean bit his lip and nodded, looking at Jo knowingly. "Joanna, huh?"

"Yes," she replied, eyes narrowed at Dean.

Kevin was oblivious. He put his arm around Jo. "Doesn't she look great, Dean? I think she looks spectacular."

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he said, observing as Jo began to blush. "Absolutely stunning."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Jo decided to say, "Yeah, um… Kevin was in the marching band at the game tonight!"

Dean arched his eyebrows. "Oh really?"

Kevin looked up at the ceiling and blew out a huff of air, which was quite possibly his way of brushing the recognition away. "Yeah. I play trombone. It actually uses a lot of math in it, if you think about…"

Dean stopped listening. It wasn't that he wasn't interested in what Kevin had to say. He was looking for Cas.

Maybe three minutes had gone by before Dean spotted Cas exiting the boys bathroom. He looked better. More collected than he was in the car.

"… and that's the entire history of the trombone! Pretty fascinating, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, his eyes glued to Cas's head bobbing though the crowd like the shark from _Jaws_. "Will you excuse me for a sec?"

Kevin smiled innocently back, like he hadn't just been ignored. "Yeah, sure! No problem!"

Dean glanced at Jo for a second, who was looking at him with deep concern.

He ignored her too.

"Cas!" Dean said once he was in range. "Hey, Cas!"

He ran into a girl with a pink dress barely reaching her mid-thigh. Holly. "Watch it!"

"Sorry," he said quickly, without really meaning it. When he looked back up, he had lost sight of his boyfriend.

"Shit," he whispered under his breath and began to look around again. It was hot with all of these bodies in the room. Hot and crowded and smelling of sweat and a hint of booze. Dean could barely breathe.

"Dean."

The boy in question turned around abruptly to meet Cas's stare. He still looked like shit, no matter how much he had tried to compose himself in the fast paced music was pumping in time with Dean's heart rate.

"Cas."

Cas smiled, eerily cheerful. The sight made Dean confused and his light-headedness worse.

"Come on, let's join in," Cas said, grabbing at Dean's wrist and gesturing toward the grinding line.

Dean pulled away, disgusted. "Cas, no," he said, his words light and airy but holding a tint of hurt. He could barely register what was going on right in front of him. "I would've thought that you'd hate this stuff."

Cas laughed. The sound was as bitter as vinegar. "Yeah, well, carpe diem, Dean." Then he ditched Dean and went to join the grinding procession anyway.

Dean was beginning to feel incredibly claustrophobic. He tried to push his way through the crowd to the back of the auditorium. It felt like forever to get through this hoard of moving people, and he ran into at least three other people. His escape was painstakingly slow. When he emerged from the mass of bodies and into more shallow waters, Dean still couldn't think right. There were a few stragglers here and there between tables with chairs, some gathering at the punch and cookie table.

Dean's head was spinning as he found the nearest table and slammed his heavy body into a metal chair. The loud noise of metal against tarp-covered gym floor was drowned out by the music. Everything was.

Then Dean let his head loll backward so he was staring at the ceiling. He closed his watering eyes.

Silence. The dark silence of his own mind, waves of thoughts passing right under the line of comprehension. He tried to pull his thoughts over the line, one at a time.

Everything had gone wrong. He hadn't even been able to compliment Cas on his vest, which Cas had said was so hard to find. Dean wondered if Cas knew that it matched his beautiful blue eyes. The eyes that were present before they became tired with tears.

Dean thought of everything he could have said, but didn't. He could've told Cas that they didn't have to stay, that they could've just skipped the dance and gone somewhere else. But Cas would've said no. Cas was too set on going to this stupid thing to end up _not _going. Dean thought about how he could've forced Cas into a hug, waiting for his body to relax and melt against Dean's own. Then they'd stay there in the car, hugging. Maybe then he would've convinced Cas to leave the dance and get him to tell Dean all about what happened with his family and who the guy on the porch was.

Dean dismissed the idea as wishful thinking. Cas wouldn't go for that, and he knew it. Cas would've argued. He loved to argue. Dean? Dean didn't know what to do. He didn't even know what to _think_.

So he stopped thinking altogether.

Besides. His neck was getting stiff sitting like that.

He stood up and walked to the refreshments table. The disk jockey was turning down the volume just enough to talk over the crowd. Dean didn't even know how many songs had gone by since he sat down.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted into the microphone obnoxiously, then cooled to a low seductive tone. "You ready to get your groove on with some super fly tunes from the hits of the 50's?"

That was the theme. 1950's. Not that you could tell between the slutty dresses and cheep balloons.

The DJ didn't wait for a response before he started playing the opening to a soft, slow song.

Dean recognized it immediately as Frank Sinatra. _All the Way._

Was some sort of sick joke?

"Dean!"

He didn't even have to turn around to know it was Cas. Dean poured some punch into a cup and brought it up to his lips. It smelled funny. Dean took a sip of the toxic-smelling drink, only to find that it tasted even worse than the aroma. The burning liquid caught in his throat, sending him into a fit of coughs.

Someone had spiked the punch.

"Deany Dean Dean!" Cas shouted, closer now. He draped himself over Dean's shoulder, but Dean was busy trying to keep his drink from spilling all over himself. "Deeeeeeeeeeeeaaan!"

"Cas, get off me," Dean said, smelling the same aroma from the punch in Cas's breath. Dean's jaw dropped. "Are you… are you drunk?"

Cas hiccupped before slipping a little off Dean, who grasped at his arms to hold up the intoxicated teenager. He giggled. "Maaaaaaaaybe."

Dean felt like pinching the bridge of his nose, but his hands were full. He helped Cas get to the closest table, which was more Dean dragging him more than anything.

Dean settled him into a chair kneeling in front to adjust Cas's vest. He had to do _something_ with his hands. "Cas, why are you doing this?"

This made Cas giggle for some inexplicable reason. "Doing what, Deany boy?"

Irritated, Dean inhaled harshly through his nose. "_This_. Getting drunk at a _school dance_. Ignoring me for most of the night. Not even telling me what the hell happened with your family." Dean ran a hand through his gelled hair, not even caring that it probably looked stupid now. He bit his lip. "… did I do something?"

Cas looked shocked, hurt almost. I leaned forward, placing his hands on each side of Dean's face. He hiccupped again. "You know, you're kinda adorable when you're disappointed." Then he set off into another fit of giggles, almost choking on them.

Dean pushed away. "What the hell man," he said quietly, standing up. "I know you're drunk, but you could at least take me seriously."

"Nonononono, wait," Cas pleaded, his words slurred and mashing together. "Please, Dean. Come back."

Dean, being the idiot that he was, walked closer. He stood beside Cas, close enough to hear him, but didn't look at the guy.

Cas took Dean's left hand, swinging it before pulling him farther down. "Closer," he whispered.

Dean obliged, reluctantly.

"Dean, answer this for me," he whispered into Dean's ear. "Does this vest—" hiccup, "—does this vest… does it make you… want to _fuck me_?"

Dean just stared down at his boyfriend with shocked eyes. He was speechless.

Cas clambered up out of his chair and pushed Dean against the table. "Please, Dean. Tonight. It should be tonight. It's perfect. It has to be perfect. Please, Dean. My dying wish."

Cas's breath stunk of alcohol and his actions were desperate and needy. Dean could barely push him off of him, despite his obvious advantage. "_No_," Dean shouted a little too loudly. He didn't even care that others were probably watching now. "Cas, you're drunk." Dean's heart clenched, hurt. "It's not perfect at all. Just… just leave me alone. At least until you're sober."

"Fine!" Cas shouted after Dean, anger clear in his voice. "Go back to your stupid greenhouse! Be a hermit! I don't care!"

Dean stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. He knew he shouldn't leave. He should take care of Cas, like Cas would probably be taking care of Dean if he were like this. But he was being _insufferable_. Dean was so confused, so hurt by Cas's words. How could he say these things and expect him to stay?

And, at that moment, Dean decided to make the right mistake.

He walked until he met the back doors of the auditorium and left.

* * *

This literally hurt me so hard I can't think right. This chapter is not just useless pain. It serves a purpose. All in due time, my friends. All in due time.

I'll try to update as soon as I can. I promise. Just stick through this horrible time with me. If there were any typos, I'm sorry. They are inevitable.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN:** This chapter contains 33% italics and 100% emotions. ... I'm not good at math. I'm a writer. What do you want from me.

* * *

"_Aaarrrggggghhhh!_"

Dean kicked the brick outer wall of the auditorium.

Needless to say, he regretted it immediately.

"_Jesus fuck_," Dean hissed, jumping on one foot as he tried to cradle the other. He backed into the same wall he'd just assaulted and slid roughly to the ground, vest be damned.

His thoughts were a puddle of hurt and anger, a puddle that was now leaking through his tear ducts and wetting his cheeks. He didn't understand how it could all go so _wrong_. They were so happy earlier that morning. Dean tried to remember the taste of strawberries, but it was covered by the taste of alcohol on his tongue. He tried to remember the feeling of Cas surrounding him as he kissed him under the stairwell, but all he felt was the unusually cool wind of the night. He tried to feel _something_, but all that was left was numb emptiness.

Dean took a deep breath.

He collected his thoughts.

And he began to figure things out, one by one, like he always did.

He'd seen Cas earlier that day, smile as present on his face as ever. Something must've happened between when he left for his doctor's appointment and when…

Oh.

The doctor's appointment?

No. It couldn't be.

Cas would've told him.

What Cas _had_ told him was that his family was a bunch of dicks.

So it was his family.

Without warning, a sudden and uncontrollable rage filled Dean. His foot hurt, his brain hurt, and his heart was in excruciating pain. But that was all blocked out by one single thought:

_What the hell did those fucking bastards do to his Cas?_

Customarily, it's okay to blame the person that makes the offense. But this was Cas. Sweet beautiful Cas that could do no harm to an _ant_, let alone the person he loved most of all. Cas wasn't messed up, his brain and emotions were.

And Dean was set on finding the sick fuck who broke him.

* * *

I didn't mean for this to be so short, but I'm kind of on a deadline with the thing I'm _supposed_ to be working on, so... I'm trying. Plus I'm going to be at my sister's for about a week, but I will try to update as much as possible, my beautiful readers. Just a notice on that. I love you all. Have a great day and even more wonderful tomorrow.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN:** I'm baaaack! Kansas City was splendid, and I wish I could've stayed longer, but then I wouldn't have been able to upload this! Sorry for such a long wait for such a poopy chapter. I'll try not to let it happen again.

* * *

Dean was about to set out on his quest when he heard his name shouted. He hadn't even heard the auditorium door open.

"Dean!" Kevin repeated earnestly.

The man in question froze, his blood boiling as he turned around slowly. "What?" he spat curtly. There was no doubt that Kevin had seen the entire altercation between Cas and him.

Kevin seemed to suddenly grow smaller as his entire body shrank into itself at Dean's harshness. Despite Dean's outrage, he still held the capacity to feel sorry for the little guy.

"Trouble in paradise?" Kevin prompted awkwardly, hands stuffed in his too-baggy dress pants. He might have meant for it to be friendly.

Instead it just irked Dean. "You don't know the half of it, kid," he laughed humorlessly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to be going."

"Wait!"

Dean exhaled harshly through his nose. "Look, Kevin. I know you mean well but I can't do this right now. I just… can't."

Kevin must've suddenly sprouted a shred of confidence because he walked briskly to join Dean in his walk to his car. "Fine. Can I walk with you to your car then?"

Dean eyed him, irritated. "Whatever."

Not even a minute later Kevin blurted, "Are you alright?"

Dean didn't even look at him. "That's talking, not walking."

"… is Cas alright?"

His eyes closed, his step faltering to a stop. If Dean didn't satisfy this damn kid, he would never leave him alone. Dean let out a deep sigh that felt like it came straight out of his heart.

"I mean, you can talk to me, Dean. I won't tell anyone. I know that talking about things makes them easier to deal with. I read it in a psychology magazine and—"

"Kevin, will you just shut it?" Dean said forcefully. "I've just experienced probably one of the worst nights of my life. My boyfriend…" His voice caught and he had to clear his throat. "My boyfriend is being a complete _dickhead_ to me and I don't even have the slightest hint as to _why_."

Kevin stared at him intently. "Is that what you're doing now? Going to find out why?"

Dean glared at him. "Yes."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

Dean had enough of this. He was wasting time. He had to go to Cas's house. He _had_ to. Otherwise… otherwise he'd go insane. Which he probably was when he pushed Kevin against a nearby car and got right in his face.

"Because there's already been enough hurt tonight, Kevin. Because the people I'm going after ruined Cas. You hear me? _Ruined_ him. And they're going to _pay_ for that." Dean was near tears by the time he was done screaming in Kevin's face. Every muscle in his body was constrained and he felt like he might throw up.

Kevin, in contrast, was calm as fuck as he placed a hand on Dean's arm cautiously. "Dean," he started, "don't do this. Hurting other people isn't going to make you hurt less. … maybe Cas isn't telling you everything you need to know."

Dean pushed away from Kevin helplessly, releasing the shorter boy from his grip. Tears were now flowing freely from his eyes and he was incredibly embarrassed. "I already know that!" he croaked, falling against the car opposite. The door handle dug into his lower back, but the sudden clarity that the pain brought was welcome. The pain, the _physical _pain was the only thing that made sense in his fucked up brain.

Suddenly, there was a hand on Dean's shoulder. He looked over at Kevin's gentle eyes. The kid may have been a complete nerd and a little socially inept, but he seemed like he could be a good friend. Kevin smiled comfortingly. "Maybe you should go ask him then. There's no harm in that, right?"

Dean turned his gaze to his shoes and nodded slightly.

Kevin's smile grew brighter. He slapped Dean's arm in a friendly fashion. "Great! Okay! And if that doesn't work, if you're still in the dark, then come get me and we'll figure this out." Kevin's face became serious. "Just don't go on your own."

Dean wiped at his eyes harshly, leaving a raw feeling behind as he let go of a huge sigh. He swallowed the sobs that had threatened to escape his throat, but it was easier now.

Kevin patted his shoulder, then leaned against the car with Dean, hands tucking into his pockets. Without looking at the other boy, Kevin said softly, "No one should have to be alone."


	16. Chapter 16

AN: I'm really trying to give this a lot more attention than I have been, but it's really hard. I've just started revising another project that I've been working on that's like 35,000 words and it's literally sucking all my writing juices out of me *sigh* I miss daily updates just as much as you guys do. (Did that sound conceited because I feel like that sounded a smidgen conceited.) I'll try to update again as soon as possible. I hope you have a great day and an even more wonderful tomorrow because if you stuck with me this long you deserve it.

* * *

When Dean returned to the dance it was starting to cool down a bit. All he wanted to do was find Cas and get the hell out of this cesspool of teenage hormones. God knows how much trouble they've gotten him into so far.

Cas was sitting not too far from where Dean left him. As he approached the considerable drunken teen, Dean's hotheaded decisions finally began to calm. Cas's head lolled from side to side in time with the music, which was another slow song from the 50's. Elvis maybe. This was the soundtrack that helped coax Dean's thoughts into light and he realized what his priorities were.

Cas. All Cas, only Cas. Getting Cas safe, getting Cas happy again, getting Cas to know that he loved him, even if right now he wasn't feeling too forthcoming in the way of sexual acts. The numbing feeling in his gut and lungs and head returned as his entire being zoned in on the one person that Dean's world revolved around. And that one person was currently knocking over a cup of punch onto his pants.

"Aw man," Cas groaned.

Dean was happy to know that he at least sustained the capability of knowing when he fucked up. He placed a hand on Cas's shoulder, but it wasn't as tender as previous ones. Cas glanced up with confused eyes.

"We need to talk," Dean said, more of a command than a request. He helped Cas lift himself from the confines of his chair. "And maybe we can get you cleaned up, too, Cas."

Cas had obviously transitioned from the giggly kind of drunk to the I-hate-the-world kind of drunk whilst Dean's absence. The intoxicated teen had to almost be _dragged_ to the boy's bathroom. So with that effort, Dean was already breathing quite heavily when he hoisted him onto the counter with the sinks.

A loud sigh escaped Cas's lips when he let his head fall against the mirror, eyes squinting closed at the sudden bright light from the ceiling. "I apologize, Dean."

"Why?" Dean asked, monotone, as he ripped half a dozen paper towels from the dispenser.

"I acted very…" Cas's head lolled to the side, and Dean began to think that he'd lost his train of thought when he jerked back up. "… inappropriate toward you."

Dean chuckled, but there was no humor to it. "What makes you think that?"

He knew it wasn't fair. He knew that he should take pity on his boyfriend, but Dean was still a little bitter about the advancement from earlier. He knew he could have continued, but instead he just began to dab at the spilled drink on Cas's leg, steering clear of any area that would give Cas any more ideas. Or at least this _version_ of Cas.

Dean was so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized how silent Cas was. When he glanced up, silent tears were creating silver tracks on Cas's cheeks as the gleamed in the florescent light.

Dean stopped what he was doing, instead taking a hand to rest against Cas's cheek. "Hey, no tears," he whispered, but Cas wouldn't look at him. So he brought up another hand and made him. "I know you don't want to talk about it. I know you're hurting. And I know that I want to help. But…" Dean remembered what Kevin had said. "Maybe talking about it will help you sort through it."

Cas's body began to shake, the beginnings of a sob evident in his jerks. He shook his head from Dean's grasp, pressing his temple against the cool glass of the mirror. "I hate myself…" he whispered, barely audible.

Staring with a blank gaze, Dean was filled with horror. Horror at Cas's words and horror at his allowing him to feel like this. He'd been so selfish, walking out like that. No. He _knew_ Cas had needed him, yet he still walked out. What the hell kind of boyfriend did that?

Not Dean. No. Dean came back. Dean came back to make Cas better, to fix him. And that was the only thought on his mind when he forced Cas to meet his gaze.

"Stop. Don't do that. Don't do that to yourself. Please. It's not your fault."

Cas laughed bitterly. "Of course it's my fault." He threw his head back against the mirror, short and hard enough to leave a thumping headache later. "It's always my fault."

"You can't know that—"

"Do you really want to argue with the tests, Dean?"

Dean's eyebrows scrunched together. His name had never sounded so accusatory on Cas's tongue. "What tests? Cas, what's going on?"

Cas laughed louder, freaking Dean out more and more by the second. "You don't want to know. Everybody regrets wanting to know. They never like the answer."

Dean straightened his stance between Cas's legs. He was beginning to become irritated by his dancing around the question. Again. "Whatever you have to say I'll listen and I will never, _ever_ love you less because of it."

With those words, Cas seemed to finally take Dean seriously. His blue eyes softened, flickering over every detail of Dean's stern expression as if evaluating his capacity for whatever he had to say. Dean knew by his expression, his infamous telltale expressions, the exact moment when he had come to a decision.

"Dean, I have cancer."


	17. Chapter 17

AN: Wow, um... you guys have some pretty creative things to say in the reviews, I'll give you that. I've got the rest of the story outlined, and I hope you guys don't lose faith in my judgement. You are all very kind people and I love hearing from you! Now, on with this thing called a fanfic! I hope you have a great day and even more wonderful tomorrow, you beautiful lovelies.

* * *

"But that's not fair!" Sammy whined.

The thing about books and TV shows is that they have a limited amount of time to tell a story.

Bobby sighed, exasperated. "Well get used to it!"

Usually they jump to commercial or to a new chapter at the end of the climax, just to build drama, and when they come back they're miraculously in another place, another time, another tone.

Sammy kicked at the wall. "But everybody else already has new shoes and I'm stuck with… with _these_."

They don't show the awkwardness of two boys walking through a whole crowd of teenagers, their minds and bodies rejecting the upbeat music pumping against their very being.

"Tough shit. You know we can't afford those goddamn thousand dollar hipster shoes now, Sam. You should be grateful for what yah got."

They don't show the shocked silence as one practically carries the other, their captive audience parting like the red sea as they move.

Sammy's scowl transformed into an icy glare. "Dean got a whole suit! Why does he always get what he wants and I'm left with scraps!"

And they most definitely do not show the ride home, the silence, the confusion of it all, the _every fucking feeling that is possible when you find out the love of your life sitting next to you is fucking dying._

Bobby had enough. "Yeah, but Dean doesn't give two shits about what he looks like. He doesn't need expensive shoes to be happy. You might take a lesson."

No, what they do show is the crying. The desperate sobbing into each other, the never wanting to let go for fear that it will be the last time.

Sammy laughed bitterly. "Yeah, well hurray for Dean, then." He turned toward the steps, mumbling so Bobby couldn't hear, "Puts up a whole act. Lucky bastard."

At least they got that part right.

Dean and Cas barged through the front door, Cas collapsing on the rug of the front entrance. His eyes were red and puffy, his whole body writhing on the ground like he wanted to get up but had forgotten how. Dean knelt beside Cas, taking his head into his lap. "It's okay, baby. We're at my house now, you're safe."

Now it was time to face the two pair of eyes staring at him. Dean looked up at them pleadingly and Bobby was down there with him in a second. Sammy stayed frozen, one foot on the stairs, panic on his face.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Bobby asked, slightly accusatory.

Dean overlooked the tone of his voice. "I'll tell you later. Just… just help me get him upstairs." Dean's throat was hoarse.

When Bobby sent him an even more perplexed look, Dean just shook his head. "He can't go home. He's spending the night."

Bobby nodded and didn't ask any more questions. Instead, he helped lift Cas up the short flight of stairs to Dean's room.

Sammy had disappeared.

Bobby set Cas on Dean's bed, somewhat haphazardly. Dean wanted to yell at him to be careful, that this was Cas, but his throat was refusing to work. Bobby ran to the bathroom for something or other while Dean crawled in beside Cas's limp body.

His boyfriend drifting in and out of consciousness. Cas placed a weak hand to Dean's chest before it slid back down to the bed. Dried tear tracks ran down his cheeks, running away from tired eyes that threatened to close forever.

But Cas was stubborn. He liked to argue. So he kept them open enough to look at Dean as he said, "I'm sorry."

Dean shushed him quietly, one hand petting his messy hair and another running up and down his arm. Dean kissed his forehead. "You don't have to apologize."

"Yes I do," Cas said loudly, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry about tonight. It was supposed to be perfect… you were perfect… we were supposed to end up by the dock and watch the stars and… and I ruined it. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier… that I had to be—" A hiccup. "—like _this_ to tell you. I don't… I didn't… You must hate me."

Dean shook his head violently, tears threatening to spill for the umpteenth time that night. "No, Cas. I love you, _goddamn_ do I love you. Nothing you could ever do or say will change that."

Cas stared up at Dean, who was now looming over him. "Thank you." The last thing he saw before Cas fell asleep was his small smile and watery eyes glinting in the moonlight. But something felt different about those tears. They looked almost… happy.

Bobby walked around the corner, a glass of water in his hand. Dean noticed how taut his fingers were around it and slowly lifted himself from the bed to take it from his Uncle. Distress was clear on Bobby's face as he stumbled to find words. "He's drunk. You should… you should put him on his side in case he does something stupid like choke on his own vomit."

Dean nodded and did as such, placing the glass of water on the bedside table.

"Dean," Bobby ventured precariously. "… what happened?"

With a shaky breath, Dean grabbed Bobby by the arm and led him downstairs. Dean avoided the spot where Cas had first fallen, instead walking a few steps to the couch in the living room. He gestured for Bobby to sit while Dean remained standing, unable to calm himself.

"Bobby…" he started, but had to clear his throat. "Uh, Cas, um… Cas has cancer." Dean couldn't believe the words he just said.

Bobby's face fell. Dean could tell he tried to prepare himself for whatever news, but he definitely wasn't expecting _this_. "Oh god, Dean," he breathed before standing. He took his nephew into his arms. "Dean, I'm so sorry."

Dean, who was unaccustomed to such sensitivity from the older man, took advantage of the warmth and comfort that Bobby provided. He didn't even care of his snot was getting all over Bobby's jacket, Dean just clung to one of the few people who actually cared and _sobbed_.

"What… what kind?" Bobby asked softly.

Dean shook his head and said through heavy breaths, "He… he didn't… want to… talk about… it." At 'it' Dean fell apart completely, feeling as helpless as Cas might've when he was being dragged along.

During the whole ordeal of getting Cas home and safe, Dean's body had gone into overdrive, switching to his default setting of protection. His mind on the other hand, was swarming with panic and anxiety and pure bewilderment. And now that Dean was home and had some sort of structure with Bobby, he exploded.

There were times when Dean would cry. Soft, silent crying of wondering why he had to be different or of why he had to be put here where nobody even wanted him. But this wasn't the same. This was a nuclear explosion, the mushroom cloud suffocating his brainwaves as his body was wracked with sobs. A thunderous sound beat against his ears before Dean realized that it was him making the sounds. Even then, he didn't stop. No matter how much he screamed or how hard he fisted his nails into his palms, _it wasn't enough_. The hurt and unfairness and hopelessness of the situation was just too much to simply evaporate.

"It'll be okay, Dean," Bobby cooed. "It'll all be okay."

Dean wished that people would stop lying to him.

* * *

I hope the first part of this chapter wasn't too confusing. I wanted to try something similar to the first chapter and so yeah that's what I came up with. Reviews are always appreciated, so if you want to drop your dime of opinions I'd be very much pleased. Believe it or not, they actually help me write faster! *tries to brush away the hints at my dependency on others' opinions of my work to measure my self worth*


	18. Chapter 18

AN: I don't... um... you see... I... I'm not even going to try to explain myself. I know I've abandoned you guys. I'm truly deeply sorry about that. So I kinda went ham on word count this one, which I hope will be refreshing for you guys.

The catch? THIS is the reason for the sudden change in rating from _T_ to _M_... WHOOPS. But if you want to skip over this smutty piece of.. I don't even know what this is, I've made it so you won't miss any huge major plot points, I swear. But I will be referencing back to it in future chaps, so it does serve a purpose without actually containing plot stuff? Meh.

Enjoy! And if you're not the smutty read kind of person, I'll make sure to make the next chapter is just as much as a reward for your wait.

* * *

Dean woke up to Cas's warm blue gaze staring at him and a numb sensation in his left arm.

After he'd calmed down a little last night, Dean had gone to bed. He'd crawled up next to him and laid his head on his chest and wrapped his arms around the only tether to sanity he had left. So this was the position he woke in: face barely an inch away from Cas's, arm fallen asleep under the warmth of the other's body. Now, in the wee hours of the morning and a golden sun leaving the slightest imprint on their entwined limbs, they laid atop the covers of Dean's bed.

Dean's mouth dropped open slightly, but said nothing. Cas continued to stare until the split second where he leaned in and kissed his boyfriend lightly on the lips.

They both sighed into it, but not of content. It was a sigh trying to convey just how much they needed to be close, to be together. Dean tightening his grip on Cas, ignoring the pinpricks that shot up his arm.

Just when Dean was considering deepening the kiss, Cas pulled away breathless. He leaned his forehead against Dean's, his breath ghosting over Dean's previously enveloped lips.

"_We, unaccustomed to courage  
exiles from delight  
live coiled in shells of loneliness  
until love leaves its high holy temple  
and comes into our sight  
to liberate us into life._"

Cas pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead.__

"_Love arrives  
and in its train come ecstasies  
old memories of pleasure  
ancient histories of pain.  
Yet if we are bold,  
love strikes away the chains of fear  
from our souls._"

Then he pressed a kiss to Dean's nose.__

"_We are weaned from our timidity  
In the flush of love's light  
we dare be brave  
And suddenly we see  
that love costs all we are  
and will ever be.  
Yet it is only love  
which sets us free._"

And finally returned his lips to their rightful place on Dean's.

It was so surreal. Cas reciting poems to him like he'd always done, kissing him like he'd always kissed him, and pretending like nothing was the matter.

Could last night have been just one big nightmare?

"That was beautiful." Another short kiss. "What's it called?" Dean asked as he pulled Cas with him by his tie into a sitting position, which was kind of hard since it was a bow tie.

Cas smiled against Dean's mouth. "Touched by an Angel," he breathed.

Dean giggled, the sound foreign but welcome. "So what's that mean? Are you my angel?"

"I very well could be, Dean Winchester." Cas eased Dean onto his back. They'd flipped on the bed entirely now, their feet tangling amongst the pillows.

The intensity was overwhelming. Neither of them even dared to think the thoughts that itched to breach their sloppily-constructed walls, instead letting the want and need of touching overcome them utterly and completely. Cas sat back on his heels, and, sequentially, Dean's knees, to help slip off Dean's night shirt. Dean giggled when it got caught around his neck, his face hidden from view by the layer of tangled cloth around his arms and head.

"Cas, help me," Dean whined when he wriggled, trying to escape from his cotton confines.

Disobeying a direct order, Cas dove down to kiss at Dean's collarbone. Then his throat. He slowly brought his mouth up to kiss through the shirt at the place where Dean's jaw met his ear.

"I know other, more… enticing poems," Cas whispered in Dean's ear. "Do you wish to hear?"

Dean, whose hot breath was creating a damp patch on the cloth above his mouth, stopped all attempts at trying to remove the shirt. He nodded cautiously, then felt Cas's sly smile against his covered ear.

"_By this these angels from an evil sprite,  
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.  
License my roving hands, and let them go  
Before, behind, between, above, below._"

A shiver ran up Dean's spine. The implications, the meaning behind the words clouded his mind with something he'd never experience before. "Cas…"

The man in question glided his hands down Dean's sides with only his fingertips. It drove Dean absolutely crazy, but he stilled in apprehension of what Cas was planning to do. Which was unbeknownst to the one he was doing the things _to_.

"Dean, the human body is a wonder of nerves and muscles and chemicals. Were you aware of that?" Cas's words were soft, the exhaled breath a haze above Dean's skin as he paused his mission touching every inch of Dean with his mouth.

Dean didn't respond. He was too busy trying to keep his breathing under control.

Cas chuckled, the vibrations sending said nerves into a wild frenzy. "When under distress, all of those parts of us, of you and me, go into overdrive. The fight or flight mechanism kicks in, leaving us with one fateful decision to make."

Cas's mouth disappeared for a long moment, but Dean was too mesmerized by the liquid gold words that came from his mouth to notice right away. Cas was finding a way to speak Dean's language: biology. And he still managed to make it sound incredibly hot.

All of a sudden, the shirt that Dean had grown accustomed to being around his neck, was lifted slowly. When his head was finally free, he was startled by the view in front of him: a shirtless Cas with the sexiest bedhead that Dean had ever had the pleasure to bear witness to.

And suddenly, the breathtaking of the boy with the beautiful bedhead was swooping in the press a hard kiss to Dean's already swelling lips. Dean lifted a hand to Cas's hair, running through the locks of black, the other placing itself against the small of Cas's bare back.

"God, I love you," Dean growled as he pressed Cas down to lay on top of him completely. Through Dean's cloth gym shorts and Cas's boxers, the contact of cock against cock was almost too much, especially when Cas decided that things were going too slow and started to _move_. "Oh-oh god," Dean moaned, his body sending small spasms with the newfound pleasure. "Ohmigodjesus_fuck_."

Cas, whose lips were now free, kissed at Dean's neck. Cas ran his tongue up Dean's jawline, suckling at his earlobe. "My only question is, Dean Winchester," Cas breathed unevenly, "do you pick _fight—_" he thrust his hips against Dean's with exceptional force this time, "—or _flight_?"

In a rush of hormones and adrenaline, Dean maneuvered to flip Cas with an unmistakable _growl_. He leant back, finally ripping Cas's boxers that confined his boyfriend in one swift motion. And the outcome was better than anything his eager teenage mind could ever fathom.

Eyes glued to the member settling against Cas's abdomen, Dean couldn't control himself as he let a tentative hand glide up Cas's thigh. The shiver at his touch did nothing to distract Dean as he wrapped his hand around Cas's dick and gave it a soft squeeze.

"_Dean_," Cas sighed, dragging out the vowel as his head fell to the side. The tiniest bit of attention, and Cas was soaring with content.

Dean licked his lips, releasing Cas to slide his hand up and down the other's thigh. "God, you're so sexy," he whispered, his voice husky with anticipation for… for what? The thought gave him goosebumbs.

Cas laughed, eyes fluttering open to look over his chest at Dean. "God has nothing to do with this."

Dean giggled along, though not sure why. With a smile glued to his face, he scrambled out of his own gym shorts and tossed them to the ground in a crumpled heap. The chill of the air against his previously covered skin finally brought this all to reality.

Birds were beginning to chirp outside, the sun barely cresting over the horizon. The soft light basked Cas in a golden light that made him seem almost like the angel he claimed to be. "I can't believe we're doing this," he laughed, the disbelief clear in his voice. Then it occurred to him, the thing he needed to ask. "Are you sure you want to?"

Cas brought his eyes up from where he'd been staring at this new side of Dean he'd never seen and focused on Dean's face. There was a glint in his eye that reflected the pure happiness of his smile. Cas propped himself up onto his elbows as Dean leant forward, crawling on top of Cas's naked body.

They didn't kiss. Instead, they stared into one another's eyes exchanging the air between their mouths in the sort of intimacy that was unimaginable to Dean before this exact moment. Dean flashed back to one time in The GreenHouse when he and Cas had been making out so passionately that they knocked over a pot of cucumbers. Cas had pulled away, startled, but Dean held him so he couldn't move. His eyes, pupils blown beyond belief, had adjusted to the situation, realizing just what they were doing. Dean saw it all in his expression, that traitorous telltale expression, exactly what he was feeling before he said the words. His eyes held nothing but truth as he confessed his love to Dean for the first time.

Those same eyes with the same message were now closing slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching into the beautiful smile that Dean knew so well. Cas laughed in a huff, his shoulders echoing the motion. "Dean," Cas whispered, the man in question letting his forehead fall against Cas's. He brought one of his hands up awkwardly to let the pads of his fingers trail along Dean's cheek. "Never have I ever been so sure about something in my entire life." Cas's nose brushed against Dean's before breathing a sharp intake of heated air. "Dean, you are my air. You allow me to _breathe_. I… I can never thank you enough for that."

Dean searched for words in which to respond. When he found none, he dipped his head to Cas's lips, pushing the first domino in a chain of events Dean would never allow himself to forget.

They began slowly with a touch. God, that _word_. The word that could never do any justice to feeling Dean was consumed by as Cas forced their bodies flush against each other. Then hands were everywhere, running down sides and backs and groping at skin. Within the first tentative rolls of hips and delicate kisses, the two boys were absolutely hopeless. Dean gripped them both, his eyes never leaving Cas's as he began to slide his hand along their lengths. Everything was rising so fast: the heat, the heart rate, the want and need and volume of the sloppy acts. Everything was clouded in Dean's head except for the fact that he had Cas and Cas had him and nothing else in the world was prudent.

The mere touch of his cock against Cas's was shattering him in every way possible. Yet he'd never felt so whole. Underneath him, Cas was struggling to keep his eyes on Dean. He was holding him so tightly, his hands wound underneath Dean's arms and gripping behind his shoulders. Cas felt each ripple of the muscles in use beneath his own hands and it was glorious. There was nothing there but Dean on top of him and Dean surrounding him and _Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean_.

It ended so quickly. With a choked out "_Dean_!" and a whispered "_Cas_!" as they were both shuddered and gasped for air. Dean rode through his orgasm with Cas, falling to the mess of bed sheets beside Cas. They laid there, Dean with one arm strung across Cas's torso and his face in his neck. Chests heaved up and down, their bodies spent and sweaty and minds blank but full of bliss.

Cas nuzzled his nose against Dean's hair and Dean sighed contentedly, tightening his grip on Cas. It occurred to him that this was almost the exact position he woke up. Just upside down and less… clothes.

"I love you."

Dean didn't know if it came from his lips or Cas's. But he didn't care. Either way, it was true. That was the only thing that really mattered.

* * *

This was my first ever time writing smut. I'm really insecure about this right now so sorry for the rambling author's note oh god I'm making it worse crap no Maya stop just put a period at the end of this and it's be yeah. Be kind. Tell me what you think! If I done good, I might even add one later on. ... Maybe. Don't hold me to that. I know there's some stuff that's just like "Uh... what are you doing, Maya?" but I just went with what Destiel was telling me to do. They're just so in love it hurts and I know I probably did a sucky job at this but I tried my best so whatever you smut criticizers I'm sorry I haven't even been kissed leave me alone I am inexperienced and probably have something wrong in the head. (Rambling again, whoops.)

ANYWAY, the first poem was by Maya Angelou and the second (more explicit one) by John Donne. Yeah, finally pay tribute to my writing hero and inspiration and the person that I'm named after and it serves smut purposes... my parents must be so proud.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN:** I apologize. Again. I'm really focused on my other project right now and I honestly forgot about this for like three days. I'm a horrible person. And this is a horribly short chapter and I have failed in my reward for your patience. You can have my head for this when the fic is done. Okay? Okay.

* * *

The thing about doing the frickle frackle in the morning, is that you can't have a morning _after_. You gotta get up from the cuddles and get dressed so that your little brother doesn't walk in on your naked ass.

"You ready for breakfast?" Dean asked softly, tossing a clean shirt and shorts to Cas who knelt on the bed still.

He nodded and pulled the shirt over his head. As soon as it was on, Dean was pulling on it to bring Cas closer.

"But I am not—" a kiss "—certain it will—" another kiss "—taste as good as—" a longer kiss "—_this_."

Dean laughed and pushed him back onto the bed. "Just get your pants on and I'll meet you downstairs."

The smell of sweat was masked by the fact that Cas had sweated so much last night. And drank. But yeah. The point was, Bobby wasn't asking any questions when Cas slid into the chair directly across from Dean at the dinner table. When Dean tried to smile at him, Cas wouldn't meet his gaze. Weird.

"Want some eggs?" Bobby offered, lifting the plate for Cas.

Cas snorted, taking the plate that had been only a few inches away from him to begin with. "Thank you."

Bobby stood and leaned over the table to grab the pitcher of orange juice. "Here, let me pour you some—"

"Mr. Singer, I have cancer," Cas cut in, placing a hand over his cup. "I am not an infant. You don't have to cut my food for me."

There it was. _The 'c' word_. Dean tensed automatically, his fork falling to his plate with a loud _clank_. So the nightmare he so desperately wanted to repress had come true. Fantastic.

All the blood had drained from Bobby's face. "I didn't… Cas I mean—"

Cas wiped his mouth with his napkin. "It's fine, Bobby. I am accustomed this sort of reaction."

A thought crossed Dean's mind that made him absolutely furious. "Wait, you mean this sort of thing has happened _before_?"

His eyes steeling, Cas looked to Dean's. It seemed to him that this breakfast was going to turn into an interrogation. "Yes."

Dean's expression twisted into one of hurt and betrayal. "Cas… why the hell didn't you tell me you had cancer? _When was this_?"

"Because of reactions like your Uncle's," Cas explained plainly. He'd gone into some sort of answer machine, like emotions were to be untrusted past this point. "Except, they're much worse when it's a ten year old getting throat cancer."

Dean frowned. "You thought I'd treat you different?"

Cas stared him down. "I didn't think, Dean. I _knew_."

His words hurt. But Dean had to remind himself that it was Cas he was supposed to be taking care of, cancer or not. Dean didn't matter right now. "Cas… this changes nothing about how I'll treat you," Dean said, aware of Bobby's silent presence. "You know how important you are to me."

"Exactly why I'm doing this."

"Doing what?"

Cas's face turned now completely blank, hands falling to his lap. It frightened Dean how calm he was. "I think it would be in your best interest that we stop talking after I leave this house."

* * *

*internally screams at Cas to stop* *writes it anyway* WELL! I hope you've had a wonderful week *cough* I've been gone too long *cough* and wish you an even more amazing tomorrow! Stuff'll start happening soon. Promise.


	20. Chapter 20

**AN:** Hello, even shorter chapter that probably could've been added to the last chapter but I was too lazy to do that!

* * *

"And when did you decide this?"

Bobby had finally decided to speak up, his parental protection setting overpowering the I-done-fucked-up one.

"When I was walking down the stairs," Cas said. "I just figured that this would be the most logical thing to—"

"Shut. _The fuck_. Up," Dean gritted through his teeth.

"Excuse me?" Cas looked almost offended. You know. If he actually was willing to show emotion.

Dean pushed away from the table, his chair falling to the ground violently. Tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes. "I said _shut the fuck up_. You do not get to do this. Not now. Not ever. But _especially_ not now."

Cas stood to match Dean, but took a more composed approach to it. "Dean, I've seen what happens. My family… my family _pities_ me because of this. I will not allow you to do the same."

Dean bit his lip, his head shaking as he refused to let go of Cas's cold gaze. "I'm not in a very pitying mood right now, _Castiel_. What you're doing isn't brave or self-sacrificing. It's _stupid_. So you have cancer. Who gives a shit? I'm not a doctor, I can't do anything but love you. That's _all_ I can do. And if you… if you take that away from me I'll kill you before it can. _If_ it even does."

Cas's head cocked, his eyes calculating every inch of Dean's flustered face. "Are you forbidding me to make conscious decisions that would save you from—"

"_Dammit, Cas_! What do I gotta say to get it through your thick skull that I don't fucking _care_ about what happens to me?" A shaky breath. "You once said that I was your everything. Well, the same goes for you. I don't wanna negotiate anymore. I just want you to be okay."

A flicker of something flashed across Cas's face. His body relaxed and the confusion in his eyes slowly ebbed away, but his jaw was still clenched stubbornly. "Fine. But if you change toward me in the slightest, I will be done."

"I can work with that."

"Alright."

"Good."

"Yes."

"For all that's good and holy, would you two just shut up and eat? This shouldn't even be up for discussion, ya idjits."

* * *

Cas is just so argumentative. Just stop.


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: **This is a little more fast forwarded because all I could see happening is more of the same sad dreary stuff. That happens. So basically Cas has been staying in school at this point and Dean and he have been a little more comfortable in public. I guess when you're dying, what people think of you hand holding with some boy doesn't really matter anymore. Sorry for the long wait. Again. Rewriting's a bitch.

* * *

Time went on and Cas wasn't getting any better.

They'd tried to hide it from the rest of the school, even when Cas was forced to let Dean help him up the stairs when it was too hard to breathe. It was hard for Dean to watch the love of his life grow so weak and not being able to cater to his every need.

He wondered how hard it was for Cas, the person all this was actually happening to.

"You okay?" Dean asked after they'd climbed the stairs to the most deserted bathroom in the school. He gripped at Cas's elbows, basically holding up his thinning body.

Cas wheezed. He wasn't sure how long he could take of this. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Dean nodded even though he knew Cas was lying. Cas wanted to be independent. Dean understood that when his boyfriend decided to walk into the bathroom alone and made him wait outside.

Wet coughing echoed from the small room into the hallway. Dean went to get a drink from the water fountain around the corner to muffle the sound at least a little bit.

The thing about when someone has throat cancer is that when they cough sometimes there's blood. The first time Dean ever witnessed it, it scared the shit out of him. He asked Cas what he could do, what he needed, but Cas just reminded him of his promise and closed the bathroom door as he puked from chemo they started last week. Even if Cas wanted him to help, there was nothing Dean could do. You can't put a band-aid on the inside of a throat. You just have to wait for the medicine to kick in and start fighting.

"Hey, faggot."

Dean lifted his finger from button that brought water, but kept his head down.

"Someone's talking to you," Michael sneered from somewhere down the empty hallway. "I suggest you address your superior."

Dean was surprised that Michael even knew the word superior. "What do you want, asshole?" he spoke into the fountain spout.

Michale tisked, closer now. "Just your name on a tombstone, but I guess that won't be happening soon."

Wiping his mouth with the end of his sleeve, Dean stood up again. He was shocked to see he didn't have his goonies waiting around the corner. "I'm not really in the mood for this right now, Michael."

"Yeah, well I'm not in the mood for all this touchy feely crap you're doing with your boyfriend," Michael said. He kept walking closer.

Dean tilted his head. "You jealous?"

Michale scoffed. "Oh, please," he said venomously. "It's disgusting to look at. Everyone wants you to stop."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Everyone, huh?"

Suddenly, a loud retching came from the bathroom.

Michael smiled. "That your boyfriend?"

Dean tensed slightly. He was certain that Jo hadn't told anybody, so how could Michael know?

His silence was taken as an affirmation, which only made Michael's smile more evil. "You know, you should tell him that image isn't everything."

"What does that have to…" It dawned on Dean that Michael knew he was sick. Just not the right diagnosis. "He's just isn't feeling good." It was nearing Thanksgiving. People were getting sick left and right.

Michael rolled his eyes. "You think I'm an idiot, Winchester? I caught him throwing up his lunch three times last week."

Dean decided he needed to turn the conversation in another directions. "So you're stalking him now? Are you sure you aren't gay?"

Before Michael could respond with that fuming face of his, the door of the bathroom slammed behind Cas. The two arguing boys stared at him.

"Dean," Cas acknowledged. Since seeing Michael, he was trying to keep his composure. It was obvious that all the wanted was to crumple onto the floor.

Knowing how mad Cas would get, Dean didn't allow himself to come to his boyfriend's aid. Instead he painfully watched the pale boy walk to him unevenly. He'd never looked worse.

Michael must've noticed, because he shut up right away.

"Dean," Cas repeated once he was standing right next to the two others. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, pressing enough weight down to make Dean waver in balance. "I suggest that you take me to the hospital."

Then, Cas did something amazing.

He vomited all over the front of Michael's letterman jacket.


End file.
